


The Crashing of the Waves

by Steerpike13713



Series: Morningstar Family Values [4]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Chloe Decker Finds Out, F/M, Gen, Goddess is a terrible parent, Human Sacrifice, Immolation, Order of the Innocents, Religious Fanaticism, Stalking, Witch Hunters, and an even worse grandparent, but - Freeform, chloe is doing her best, death by burning alive?, eeesh, is there a tag for this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713
Summary: Sabrina Spellman has settled in to life in LA disturbingly well, after a first few hiccups.  Her relationship with her father is getting more solid day by day, she's acquired a small circle of friends even if most of them are twice her age, and she's bonded hard with her prospective sort-of stepsister.Unfortunately, just because Sabrina is working to put the events of the last year behind her doesn't mean that everybody is so keen to forgive and forget. The Order of the Innocents is still out for blood after their losses in Greendale, and the Goddess isn't about to let a walking blasphemy like Sabrina away without trying to do something to amend the situation.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Sabrina Spellman, Sabrina Spellman & Trixie Espinoza
Series: Morningstar Family Values [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561111
Comments: 346
Kudos: 631





	1. Chapter 1

When people began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that they were fair; and they took wives for themselves of all that they chose. The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went in to the daughters of man, who bore children to them. These were the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown. Then they proved quite irretrievably wicked, so God drowned the lot of them, and wrote the whole thing off as a bad job.

That was the version of events that got written down, at least. And since the people writing it down were mostly all right with this state of affairs, none of them ever stopped to wonder whether Noah really was the only person in the whole of ancient Mesopotamia who owned a boat, and no-one else raised the question just in case it drew God’s attention, since nobody wanted to go through that again.

That was not, however, the end of the Nephilim.

It came close, all the same. The Nephilim had never thought to fear the flood. Were they not the children of angels, the grandchildren of God? What loving Grandfather would see his children destroyed? It was a question the Nephilim had cause to ponder, during all those days of the flood, those who had seen their fellows die beneath the water, and found ways of avoiding that fate.

What crime had they committed, they who had been so beloved of God? For surely, there had been a crime. Why else would their fathers, their mothers, their Grandfather, who had so delighted in them, have turned their backs on the Nephilim, and attempted to blot them from the face of the Earth?

The answer came to the eldest of the Nephilim as the floodwaters began to recede. God had put them on this Earth in order to serve His will, and they had not done so. They had acquired fame and glory, many of them, but they had not served as they ought. And so, the crime that had conceived them went unforgiven, and left God with no other choice but to destroy them, one and all. 

That is the version of events that is told by the Order of the Innocents. It’s been a long time since then, if it ever happened at all. A lot got lost in the retelling, and a lot got added along the way.

The Order has had many names, down the centuries, in just as many languages. The Nephilim who survived the flood lived the hundred and twenty years their Grandfather permitted them, intermarried with humans, disappeared into the throng. But angelic blood has a way of breeding true, and when it thinned too far for the Order’s purposes, there were ways of thickening it again. Their targets have varied as widely as their names - stray demons, the followers of other faiths, including other chapters of the Nephilim who had chosen to follow the word of different prophets, or simply those of their own faith that weren’t quite religious enough for their liking - but, at present, they hunted witches.

They were good at it. They’d figured out early on that just killing them didn’t do any good - a murdered witch would just go straight down to Hell, and God only knew what happened then, but evil being, so far as the Order was concerned, one big happy family in the same way that, so far as they believed, Heaven probably was, it probably wasn’t anything like as torturous as the vile crones deserved. But if you just converted them and then went on your merry way, they would inevitably backslide sooner or later. The pattern of convert and then kill had served them well for more than three hundred years, since before they first came to the Americas.

It really had come as a terrible shock when, in a little town called Greendale, a witch was shot through the heart and got right back up again, burning from the inside out with all the powers of Hell behind her.

They hadn’t heard about it right away, of course, but word gets around. And three dead missionaries isn’t the sort of thing that can go without comment, even in the sort of sleepy New England town where people mind their own business and try not to talk about the horrors that lurk in the woods.

Unfortunately, what attempts were made at investigating petered out soon enough. The coven that had met in the Greendale woods had been all but wiped out from within, and if there were surviving witches to be found, they had gone to ground so deeply that the Order could not sniff them out.

And of Sabrina Spellman, the little witchling who had started the whole affair, there was no sign at all, right up until the first pictures started appearing on an LA celebrity gossip site, and an anonymous tip-off pointed the Order right to her.

* * *

Before any of this, though, while the first photographs were still being snapped and the Order’s man in Greendale had yet to report in, in an apartment in Los Angeles, there was an argument going on.

‘Argument’ was, perhaps, a generous word for it. Angels aren’t good at arguing, on the whole. They were never really designed for it, and though Amenadiel was getting better at dealing with the concept of evitability, and the _in_ evitable arguments the concept brought with it, thirteen billion years of unquestioning obedience wasn’t something you could shake off all at once.

What was going on, in fact, was a rant. It had been going on for some time now, despite Amenadiel’s best efforts, and seemed likely to go on for several hours more.

“-and when I went to Lux to tell him, after everything, that bouncer of his actually had the nerve to tell me I’d been barred! _Barred!_ His own Mother! And all over a few passing remarks…”

“You threatened to kill his daughter.”

Goddess scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I don’t _threaten_. I merely pointed out what should already have been clear to him and everyone else. It was never meant to exist.”

“She,” Amenadiel corrected. “Sabrina.”

His Mother ignored him. “I...have done my best to tolerate the rest of it. There _is_ a lot to enjoy about the Earth, even if it’s not the Silver City. And, if all these humans are walking around looking so very edible, why not pass the time? All that, I understand, but _this_ ? _Reproducing_ with one? Why not just fuck a dog, if he’s going to sink that low? It couldn’t be more degrading, unless he wanted to try for puppies!”

Amenadiel’s skin crawled.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known how She felt - their Father might always have been distant, but Mother had been a much more _present_ figure, and her temper had always been something to be feared. There was no reason for it to affect him more, now, except-

Except ‘the Nephilim’, as a concept, weren’t the same thing as a sixteen-year-old girl who liked cats and classic horror movies and needed to be kept away from the bar in Lucifer’s apartment because Luci still wasn’t sure how much absinthe it took to kill a human, and was for once erring on the side of caution. Except, now they were, and Amenadiel...he had never actually met one of the Nephilim. His duties had kept him in the Silver City for the most part, unless somebody needed smote. It had been the Watchers who had been deployed to Earth in those early days, and Amenadiel had never had much to do with them. The only one he’d ever actually met, so far as he knew, was Shamsiel, who had been one of Uriel’s aides, and Shamsiel had never spoken about the Nephilim - about his children.

Amenadiel had always taken that for shame, but now...Now he couldn’t stop seeing the look on Lucifer’s face when he’d stormed into the precinct after Amenadiel, abandoning a murderer caught but not punished to put himself between Amenadiel and the Nephilim. The girl. Sabrina.

He hadn’t wanted to kill her, hadn’t intended to kill her, but he hadn’t really thought of her as his _niece_ until then. And if Sabrina was his niece, what did that make all the countless dead of the Flood, that he hadn’t thought twice about at the time, because humanity was only one of Father’s projects, after all.

“-not sure I’m close enough to my old powers for another flood,” his Mother was saying now. “Or a plague, but there’s only one of it, this time…”

“What?” Amenadiel blurted, unable to help himself. “Mom- _Think_! If Lucifer was never going to forgive you for Chloe, what do you think he’ll do after this?”

 _Ten thousand years in the Pit will look like mercy,_ he’d said, and Amenadiel believed him.

“You think he’d put this- this _mistake_ above his family?”

“She _is_ his family,” Amenadiel said flatly. “She’s ours too - she’s his _daughter_. Your granddaughter. Don’t you think-”

“It should never have existed! I thought those rituals had been destroyed-”

“Apparently some survived! But- Mom. If anything happens to Sabrina, he will hunt the people responsible to the ends of the Earth. And when he finds out _you_ were behind it…”

Amenadiel didn’t think Lucifer would hurt their Mother. But he hadn’t ever thought he would hurt Uriel, either. And it might destroy Lucifer to do it...but when had that ever stopped him before?

His Mother had gone still now. An odd expression was passing over Her face. “...and he has Azrael’s blade,” She said, very softly. “You really think- If this thing were to...he would be angry? As angry as he was during the Rebellion?”

“ _Yes_!” Amenadiel insisted, desperately relieved at the thought that he might be getting through to Her. “Mom - I don’t know what he’d do, if anything happened to her, but it wouldn’t end well! You can’t kill her-”

“No,” the Goddess agreed. “ _I_ can’t.”

Amenadiel breathed out. It was the answer he’d wanted.

“I don’t know if he’s about to let either of us in, after what happened. But if he knew about what was happening to you, he wouldn’t just let you die when this body gives out.”

His Mother barely seemed to hear him. “And this way, our return home no longer hinges on Lucifer’s ability to control his emotions…”

Amenadiel blinked. “...I’m not following…”

She looked up, and smiled brightly at him. “You don’t need to,” She said. “I’ve got this all worked out.”

* * *

The tip-off arrived in the form of a plain brown envelope, posted under the door of the Los Angeles Missionary Society of the Repentant Innocents. There was no name, no address attached, and the bored young woman who collected it almost threw it into the trash unread until another, more experienced, volunteer thought better of it.

The envelope contained perhaps a dozen pictures, print-outs from a dozen gossip sites, of the sort that the Order had always held were a tool of Satan on Earth, if not one that particularly required surveillance. On the surface, they seemed perfectly ordinary - photographs of a white-haired, half-pretty teenage girl and a dark-haired man in a variety of expensive suits at the Orpheum, having dinner out, at Santa Monica Pier, playing tourist across half of LA. There were captions, which were not especially illuminating, even the one that read ‘ANTICHRIST IN LA?’ in large, blaring letters across a picture of the girl threatening her older companion with a pair of plastic mouse ears.

There was also a note - just one word, written in incongruously perfect handwriting on unmarked paper. It read, simply:

 _‘Greendale’_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one quote in this chapter stolen from Castlevania, and one character stolen from another show. Also, anyone who can identify a certain demonic character's legendary origins gets several thousand Hellish brownie points.

At the beginning of the summer, Sabrina never would’ve fallen for it.

That was one thing that could be said for Greendale. The sheer madness of everyday life, where every week seemed to bring on a new supernatural crisis, had a way of keeping your instincts honed for trouble in a way that this long, lazy summer in LA had not. Everything had seemed so much more immediate there, and Sabrina had been quite sure, when she’d left, that she’d never open the door to another missionary again so long as she lived, no matter how many centuries that ended up being.

It would, admittedly, have to be a very strange sort of missionary to try knocking on Lucifer’s door. If the nightclub didn’t put them off, the fact that said ‘door’ was an elevator that no longer even left the club floor without a fingerprint ID - not that that would work if Sabrina’s Grandmother really  _ did  _ decide to unleash a flood on her, unless possibly by virtue of the penthouse being so far above sea level that it would take rather more than forty days and forty nights to produce enough of a flood to reach it - or that the homeowner was, after all,  _ the Devil _ , and thus by most conventional understandings probably the worst person in the world to evangelise at, would. Pending Los Angeles’s various tract-happy religious groups suddenly becoming passionate devotees of the writing and ideas of Mark Twain, however, it didn’t seem likely to become a concern anytime soon.

Babysitting had not featured heavily on Sabrina’s mental list of activities for her first summer away from home. But, as it turned out, sightseeing on your own was a lot less fun than doing it in company, and while Lucifer didn’t have a case to solve  _ every  _ day, or even every week, she was very short on company when he did. Besides. She liked Trixie, for whatever that was worth. Not that Sabrina had ever spent much time around younger kids - even if she’d wanted to make a little extra money that way back home, Greendale was the sort of town where, if none of your family had ever been seen to set foot in any of the town’s churches, parents tended to take rather a dim view of the idea of trusting you with their offspring, no matter  _ how  _ responsible you were.

Thankfully, Chloe didn’t seem to have any such compunctions. Sabrina would watch Trixie for free - not like there was much point asking for money when Lucifer’s idea of a reasonable weekly allowance was enough to buy Sabrina her own  _ car  _ when she went back to Massachusetts, and not even a second-hand one - and she didn’t mind late hours, and that was good enough for her. Plus, sometimes it meant sitting in on Maze’s knife-throwing lessons, the ones that Chloe wasn’t supposed to know about.

Sabrina was getting better at that - she didn’t have Trixie’s talent for knowing where the knife was supposed to go and getting it there without a little magical nudge to keep it from going astray, but she could at least hit a target, provided it was big enough, and Maze’s targets were smaller than your average human body anyway. If Father Blackwood came for the Spellmans again, Sabrina wouldn’t be caught off-guard.

Sometimes, Lucifer would come back to the apartment with Chloe at the end of a long case, under the guise of coming to give Sabrina a lift back to Lux. Which would turn into making dinner for the four of them - or the five of them, if Maze was home - and talking about the case they’d just solved, and sometimes into an evening of board games. He was appalling at Monopoly, Sabrina and Trixie had quickly discovered, but alarmingly good at Clue, although not quite as good as Chloe, who had won every game of that until they’d moved on to Trixie’s suggestion of Candyland, the less said about which the better. The Game of Life inevitably led to some kind of argument, and they’d all privately agreed to never bring up the disaster that had been Trivial Pursuit again.

It felt...nice. Homey. Not that that was a feeling Sabrina had been exactly short on - the penthouse didn’t feel like  _ home _ , exactly, but she was comfortable enough there, and Salem had already colonised the sofas for his own, much to Lucifer’s vocal dismay - it was just- She’d spent her whole life at the mortuary, with two aunts and a cousin who rarely, if ever, left the property. Aunt Hilda was the only one of the three who spent much time in town, and even that was a recent development. 

Somehow, she’d got used to the idea that there would always be someone waiting up for her, and even though that had felt like a leash sometimes...there had been times when she’d liked the feeling. Here, Lucifer was always in and out, with her or on his own or with Chloe. She could go up to bed some nights and he’d still be down in the club, which was  _ fine _ , really, she didn’t need him to tuck her in every night, but it still took a bit of getting used to, knowing that everyone wasn’t safe under one roof. But those nights at the Deckers, all of them sprawled out around a game board or talking over each other through dinner...it felt like their afternoons at the piano, him playing and her singing, or both of them singing together, or him trying to teach her her way around the keys. Or like that first night in LA, when he’d taken her out to see  _ The Omen _ and got through all four movies with only mild complaining.

The Deckers’ apartment felt like that in general, honestly, and on the days Sabrina was alone, there were worse places to look for company. She’d learnt that much from her ill-advised adventures with Cousin Montgomery and her coven, and at this point she’d take curling up on the Deckers’ sofa with Trixie watching cartoons or old musicals and squabbling good-naturedly over the relative merits of Scrappy-Doo over spending even five minutes embroiled in the backbiting and petty viciousness of Montgomery’s set.

When the knock came at the door, Sabrina was introducing Trixie to the wonders of the Rodgers and Hammerstein  _ Cinderella  _ musical, which apparently somebody had remade at some point. They’d chanced upon the opening while channel-hopping to escape _ Teen Titans Go! _ , a prospect Trixie had regarded with nothing short of absolute disgust, and Sabrina had let it play on, just for nostalgia’s sake.

“I don’t even  _ like  _ Cinderella,” Trixie sulked.

“You don’t?”

“No! She’s boring. Cinderella is like...the second-lamest princess. Maybe third-lamest, but only because the other two just  _ sleep  _ through all the interesting stuff-”

Sabrina shrugged. “That’s mortal fairy-tales for you. Not that the witch ones are much better, since half the heroines of those end up getting eaten, but…” she shrugged. “Anyway, I like this movie. Or, I think I do. I used to watch the original with my aunts when I was a kid. I didn’t know they’d remade it, though.”   
Trixie wrinkled her nose. “But it’s so  _ old _ !”

“Yeah. Greendale is funny that way.”

Sabrina hadn’t realised  _ how  _ funny, exactly, until she’d left town. She’d always known life in Greendale wasn’t much like the world Ambrose sometimes talked about, or what the movies portrayed. She’d always put that down to the passage of time, or artistic license, or even just Greendale being a small town off the beaten track. But as soon as she’d left, it felt like...like leaving a time capsule. A world that she could recognise and explore, yes, but one she was always just a little out of step with.

“It’s a pretty good musical,” she added, “I campaigned for my school drama club to put it on last year, but they ended up putting on _ Bye Bye Birdie _ instead. That one’s about Elvis getting drafted, and it’s okay, but...” she made a face, trying to convey what it was that made that play so much less satisfying than this one.

“So what did you-” Trixie started, only to be cut off by a loud rap at the apartment door. Both their heads snapped around.

“...it’s too early for that to be your mom, isn’t it?” Sabrina asked, though she already knew the answer. Even if Chloe and Lucifer had, by some miracle, found their culprit already, there would be paperwork. Granted, Lucifer never actually  _ did  _ his paperwork, but that never stopped him from hanging around Chloe, attempts to distance himself be damned. “Maze?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “It’s probably Mr Wilson,” she said disgustedly. “We weren’t even making any noise this time!”

Sabrina groaned. “Great. I’ll go...placate the retiree, I guess. You know, it’s times like this I really miss the mortuary. No neighbours there. You know my cousin Ambrose once managed to have an or- a really wild party in his attic and my aunts didn’t even seem to notice?” Granted, that had been in the run-up to the Feast of Feasts when the rule had been ‘what Prudence wants, Prudence gets’, but Sabrina wouldn’t have been allowed to get away with that even if she  _ had  _ been a matter of days away from being eaten alive by the rest of the coven.

“It’s not like you have any neighbours _ now _ …” Trixie mumbled, as Sabrina got up and made for the door.

When she opened it, there were a pair of young men in dark, ill-fitting suits standing on the other side. Sabrina blinked at them, propping the door half-open against her hip.

“...can I help you?” she asked, endeavouring to convey that, while she would be more than happy to do so, this was not the best time.

The taller of the two smiled at her. It was a bright, friendly smile, and Sabrina distrusted it on principle.

“Are you the lady of the house, miss?”

“No…” Sabrina said slowly. “No, they’re out. And I’m pretty sure neither of them would want to buy what you’re selling. I don’t have any money on me,” she added, just in case.

The smiling one nodded. “That’s all right, miss, we’re not selling anything. And since your parents are out-”

“Not my parents,” Sabrina corrected. “I’m the babysitter. And I’m pretty sure Chloe wouldn’t want me letting strange men into the apartment with Trixie here, so…”

“I’m sure it’ll be all right. And, like I said, we’re not selling anything.” The taller man’s smile widened. “We’re missionaries, going door to door and preaching the word of Our Lord.”

“ _ Your _ Lord,” Sabrina said shortly. “Not mine, and not interested. I’d try Mr Wilson next door, I’m sure he’d be  _ fascinated  _ to hear all about it.”

Petty and vengeful, maybe, but you took your satisfaction where you could.

The shorter missionary, the one that hadn’t spoken yet, took half a step forward, but his more personable friend raised a hand, and he subsided.

“We understand, of course,” he said brightly. “Any chance of a glass of water, before we move on? Spreading the word is- is thirsty work.”

It was that request that tripped the alarm bells. Jerathmiel had asked that too. It was stupid, she was being paranoid, Chloe didn’t have anything to do with witchcraft and what would be the point of pursuing Sabrina all the way across the country only to track her down to an apartment she wasn’t even living in? She hadn’t even been meant to babysit today - a case had come up at the last minute, or she’d be letting her dad drag her through all the lesser-known sights of LA that she simply  _ couldn’t  _ leave without visiting once.

It was that moment of wavering that did it. She didn’t feel the knife go in. She felt it come out, though, couldn’t stop the shocked, pained intake of breath, not quite a scream because a scream would bring pursuit, bring attention, and in the woods outside Greendale that was more likely to bring more danger than aid.

“Sabrina?” It was Trixie’s voice, Sabrina twisted, or tried to, and this time she really did cry out, a strangled sound of animal pain, as the smiling missionary stepped over her, the knife in his hand still stained red.

She made a fist, started mouthing the words of a spell- And a hand clamped down hard over her nose and mouth from behind. The other missionary, the quiet one, dragged her to her feet and held her there, even as her legs still wouldn’t support her weight.

“I thought it’d be harder,” he said to his companion, who shook his head.

“I always tell you, Zanaphiel, hubris. Pride. It has always been the witch’s downfall.”

Sabrina tried to crane her neck, to see where Trixie was, but Zanaphiel was holding her head in place with an iron grip.

“Sabrina, what’s-” Trixie’s voice choked off.

“Hey.” It was the friendlier missionary, the one whose name Sabrina still didn’t know. “It’s okay. I’m Gileon, this is my friend, Zanaphiel. We’re here to help.”

“Where’s Sabrina? What did you-” Sabrina heard it, the moment Trixie saw her. “My- My mom’s a cop,” Trixie said shakily, “She’ll find you! If you’ve killed Sabrina, Lucifer’ll come after you-”

Two shocked intakes of breath.

“Who told you this?” Zanaphiel demanded, his voice hard. 

“Nobody needed to  _ tell  _ me,” Trixie retorted. It was her ‘adults are being stupid’ voice, Sabrina thought, with a reluctant stab of affection. “If you let her go right now, he might just put you in prison. If you don’t…” her voice cracked. 

Sabrina tried to say something, to bite down on Zanaphiel’s hand, but to no avail. She couldn’t- Her vision whited out a moment. She couldn’t focus. She tried to twist her fingers, to focus on the thought of fire, of the flames of Hell at her fingertips, that glorious familiar feeling-

It wouldn’t come. She tried again, again it failed. She couldn’t get her mind right, that was the thing, every time she tried to focus, all she could find to focus  _ on  _ was the pain in her side. How deep had the knife gone in? How much blood had she already lost?

Her vision whited out again, and when she came to, the missionaries were talking.

“-the child?” Zanaphiel was saying overhead.

There was a long, still pause, and then:

“You heard what she said,” Gileon replied, grim. “Lucifer will come for us. We came too late. She’s already corrupted. All we can do is try to return her soul to God.”

* * *

The first sign Chloe had that anything was even wrong came when she and Lucifer returned to the precinct, culprit already on his way to lockup, pending bail or trial, whichever came first, and Lucifer whining in the passenger seat about how dull this case had turned out to be once they knew this wasn’t their serial killer after all, to find the Feds already there.

She’d known the moment she’d seen one of them deep in conversation with a drawn and grey-faced Dan that something was terribly wrong. 

Now, she was sitting in an interview with the lead agent on the case, the one that she’d heard called Morgan, and trying desperately to keep her cool in the face of this nightmare. She’d thought Malcolm had been the worst that could happen.

She’d never imagined being proven wrong.

“Was this a part of your regular routine?” Morgan asked, in the calm, rational, ‘talking-to-witnesses’ voice that Chloe sometimes used herself, for particularly bereaved witnesses and relatives of victims. 

Chloe nodded, a little jerkily. “Yeah- Yeah. I work...long hours, so over the summers I usually leave Trixie at home with a babysitter or Maze - Mazikeen Smith, my roommate - if she’s home.”

“Is she home now?”

“No.” Chloe hated the crack in her own voice. “No, she was out on a bounty.”

“And when she’s away, do you always use the same babysitter?”

Chloe paused. So,  _ that  _ was their theory. It made sense - if this had been for ransom, Lucifer was certainly much better-placed to pay any amount the kidnappers could ask for, and he’d said enough since they’d started working together that she could guess he had more enemies than she did. But-

“No,” she admitted. “Sabrina watches Trixie sometimes, but she’s only in LA for the summer, and most of the time she just watches Trix if Lucifer and I are on a case together and she doesn’t have anything else to do.”

There was that one time she’d somehow talked Lucifer into taking both her and Trixie to Disneyland - Chloe remembered laughing herself nearly sick at the look on Lucifer’s face when they’d got there - but that had been a one-off, no matter how wistfully Trixie talked of maybe doing it again sometime before Sabrina went back to Massachusetts in the fall. And, oh, God, she knew the statistics. Abducted children didn’t usually make it past the first twenty-four hours alive. Every minute that ticked past was one less minute Trixie had to live.

Agent Morgan nodded.

“She wasn’t supposed to be watching Trixie today,” Chloe added, because she had to give them all the facts. “We- I was supposed to have a day off, we were going to go to the beach before I got called in. Sabrina volunteered to watch her when I called Lucifer about the case.”

“...you got called in on your day off for a cut-and-dried crime of passion?”

Chloe nodded. “The...the nature of the killing made it look at first like it might be connected to a few murders last year. A serial killer. We never caught the guy, and on closer inspection the MO here wasn’t quite right.”

If they hadn’t got that wrong, or if Chloe had passed the case off to someone else after they’d determined it wasn’t their killer, she’d have been out with Trixie this afternoon, and maybe this would never have happened. Or maybe her abductor would just have waited. They’d taken Trixie from the apartment. Not on her way to school, not on that Disney trip where so very much could’ve gone wrong. They’d taken her from her  _ home _ . That meant this had been  _ planned _ , had been deliberate, not just a crime of opportunity. She mentally ran through the usual list of questions.

“I can tell you everyone who had access to our apartment - there haven’t been any unusual incidents lately,” she said, as briskly as she could. “No repairmen, no delivery guys who actually came into the apartment. I mean...Maze does sometimes bring people over, but never when Trixie is home, we added that to the house rules after she moved in, and they’re generally not around for long after Maze is...um....done with them.”

It wasn’t a long list. Their landlord technically had access, but had never attempted to make use of it after Maze put the fear of God - or, more accurately, the fear of Maze - into him the first week after she moved in. It wasn’t as though any of them had terribly many friends, and those they did have overlapped more often than not. Olga, Trixie’s usual babysitter when neither Sabrina nor Maze were available, would’ve had a hell of a job abducting the girls, and anyway, why would she? Nothing on the list really leapt out as unusual or suspicious in any way.

“Any strange letters or phone calls recently?” Morgan probed. “Anything through the mail? Grudges, obsessive fans from your acting days…”

“I starred in one B-picture and a handful of made-for-TV movies,” Chloe said dryly. “Not much there to be a fan  _ of _ . And no. Nothing like that.”

And, since Malcolm, she’d have noticed. It had become almost second nature, now, to watch everyone, to be suspicious of anyone who entered her apartment and wasn’t already well-known to her, to keep a wary eye on anyone who appeared to be following her movements too closely.

Agent Morgan made another note. 

“I want to help,” Chloe said fiercely. “I’ve been involved with cases like these before-”

“I know,” Agent Morgan said, meeting her eyes squarely. “I know you do. I’ve been in your shoes, Detective. I know how frustrating it is-”

“You’re already making use of LAPD resources,” Chloe reminded him. “I’m a resource.”

“Then trust your colleagues to find her.

Chloe managed a bitter laugh. “To find any other officer’s kid, maybe. To find  _ mine _ ?”

A year after Palmetto, and she was still the rat, the one who’d broken the unspoken code of solidarity when she’d gone after Malcolm. She’d been proven right, and it hadn’t seemed to make much of a dent in that. All that had done was drag Dan down to the bottom of the ladder with her, so nobody would look for Trixie as hard as they could except maybe Ella, who was brilliant in the lab, but still just one person.  _ Lucifer  _ had more chance of getting the help he needed - he had a way of growing on people like that.

And Lucifer- Lucifer had resources.

He might not be favour-trading anymore, but he still had that vast network of favours owed out there. All those ‘friends’ and contacts he could lean on, all those secrets he knew. And he’d use them. She already knew, or thought she knew, he’d do it for Trixie. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d do it for Sabrina.

“You’re too close to this case, detective,” Agent Morgan said, not unkindly. “But, I promise, if she’s alive, we’ll get her back for you.”

When she got out of the interview room, Lucifer was still in with the agent sent to debrief him, and Dan was standing by the coffee machine, looking as if he’d aged twenty years in a day. Probably she looked the same.

“Agent Morgan let anything slip?” he asked hoarsely.

Chloe shook her head. “They seem to think Sabrina was the real target. I’m not sure they’re wrong, except that she wasn’t supposed to be at our apartment today.”

“So either she’s got a stalker, or these assholes were after Trixie after all and Sabrina was the collateral damage.” Dan shook his head. “It...looks like there was a struggle, from what I overheard. There’s…I saw the crime scene photos. There was a lot of blood in that apartment.”

Chloe’s stomach clenched. “Do- do they know whose? How was it- Do they have any idea of a weapon, did they find the shell casings, or-”

“I don’t know!” Dan snapped, and drew in a breath. “Sorry. I just...I keep thinking about Trixie…”

“I know.”

After Malcolm, it was all she could think about.

Twice in a year, Trixie had been abducted now. Twice, in just one year. Was- Was this her fault, her failure? Could she have done something to bring this on- It was a ridiculous thought, she  _ knew  _ it was ridiculous, she heard this sort of thing from victims and their families all the time, and it had never sounded like anything but grief and survivor’s guilt to her before. Somehow, though, she couldn’t stop thinking it.

“They’ll be running the list I gave them looking for convicted sex offenders,” she said, as steadily as she could. “It wasn’t a full list - even I can’t learn all of Maze’s partners’ names - but…”

“It’d probably just slow things down if you could,” Dan said, “You remember when we had to do that with Lucifer?”

Chloe snorted, a little wetly. Oh, she remembered. It had been back when it still seemed like she and Lucifer might have something, before his disappearing act, and his return, long-lost daughter in tow. He’d backed off after that, though nothing had actually been  _ said _ . And she got it, she really did. Just the hints she’d got about what sort of nightmare the last year of Sabrina’s life had been had been enough to make it clear that adding a relationship to the stress of helping her with all of that would be too much even for Lucifer. She was even proud of him, in a distant sort of way, for figuring that out, and putting his kid first-

Might that have something to do with this, though? 

The sole survivor of a mass poisoning in a Satanist cult, whose leader apparently had some kind of a grudge against her legal father’s family. Lucifer’s mother, who had drowned her own grandchildren in yet another cult - what was  _ with  _ Lucifer’s family and cults? - and Sabrina herself had attracted no small amount of attention in the gossip columns when she first arrived in LA.

At another time, Chloe might’ve felt sympathetic, but now- The thought that  _ her daughter  _ might’ve become collateral damage in someone’s grudge against Sabrina or Lucifer or even the Spellmans back in Massachusetts was repugnant to her.

She needed to know. She wanted to see her apartment - God, her apartment, where was she going to  _ sleep  _ tonight? - She wanted her gun and whoever had taken Trix and Sabrina up against the wall ready for a firing squad of one.

She  _ wanted  _ to be let in on this investigation, where her nervous energy might actually do some good.

Instead, she was stuck out here with no case, no daughter and no way of getting the information she needed to stay sane in the face of this.

A door opened nearby, and Lucifer stalked out.

And ‘stalked’ was the word for it. His face was dark, his eyes for a moment seeming to flash red under the fluorescent lights - some kind of trick of the light, Chloe told herself - and his expression was murderous. Anger seemed to come off him in waves, strong enough to knock her back with the force of it, and for once, Chloe could almost see what it was that left suspects screaming and crying and cowering and agreeing to say  _ anything  _ if only they weren’t left alone with him again.

“Lucifer!” Dan called out, but Lucifer didn’t even seem to hear him, sweeping past apparently unseeing, his face a mask of fury.

Chloe hurried to catch up with him - she really did need to hurry, somehow she’d never noticed before how  _ fast  _ Lucifer could move when he was set on something - and caught him just as he was leaving the precinct.

“Lucifer!” she snapped, and he rounded on her, towering, terrible- And then he saw her face, and something about him crumpled. 

“Detective,” he said, almost a croak, “I-”

She swallowed, half-wanting to reach out, but something about the way he’d looked, for a second before he’d realised it was her, held her back and set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Predator, her instincts whispered, and for all that the rational mind told her Lucifer was...maybe not harmless, but on her side, the hindbrain wouldn’t listen.

“Did the agent who interviewed you tell you anything?” she asked instead. “I mean, you’re...you...so you’ve probably got their main suspect’s name, address and shoe size already…”

“If only this were that simple, Detective,” Lucifer said grimly. “No suspects, as yet. Agent Najjar was very clear about that. They haven’t even determined who was the real target here - though they do appear to believe that only one of our daughters was being actively targeted. Probably Sabrina,” he added. It would have sounded careless, except for the tightness of his jaw, the brittle edge to his voice.

“What, you think your kid’s the only one anyone’d come after?” Dan demanded. “Wait- You think this is for ransom? Is that why-”

“No.”

“Then why are you so sure it was her?” Chloe pressed. “Is-” she stopped dead. “...you  _ did  _ notice something before all of this,” she said slowly. “Something wrong.”

“Not...exactly.” Lucifer’s jaw worked. “I just find it hard to imagine why, if they didn’t need Sabrina, dead or alive, they chose to take her with them  _ after  _ she’d already been stabbed.”

Chloe’s stomach lurched. Lucifer’s voice had been perfectly calm, but now she could see the tension in every line of him, sharper even than her own.

Against her will, she saw Sabrina in her mind’s eye. Smirking in the precinct with her cat in her arms, belting out a pop anthem onstage at a cheap karaoke bar, screaming on Trixie’s other side on a rollercoaster during that day out at Disneyland, dead on the floor of Chloe’s apartment with blood matting her fair hair.

“Oh- Oh, God, Lucifer, I’m so sorry-”

He didn’t even tell her to leave his father out of this. “ _ You're  _ not the one who needs to be sorry, Detective.”

There was dark promise in his voice now, and, shamefully, Chloe was glad of it. 

“You’re going to investigate this, aren’t you?” she said in a low voice.

His eyes met hers, black now almost from edge to edge. “Yes.”

“Good.” Chloe squared her shoulders. “I want in.”

“Yeah,” Dan cut in, “Me too.”

Lucifer went still. “You...do?”

“Yeah, we do!” Dan snapped. “Trix is our daughter, you think we’d just-”

“I don’t mean to question your devotion to your spawn, Daniel, Detective, but the fact remains that certain of my...contacts...would never willingly deal with-”

“A cop?” Chloe supplied.

“A human.” Lucifer’s mouth twitched mirthlessly at the corners. “Maze’s siblings aren’t  _ nearly  _ as open-minded as she is, you know. If one of them was responsible for this, I will find them. And if they weren’t, they can find our missing spawn.” He bared his teeth in something that could only by the most generous of definitions be termed a smile. “Night Mallt has never yet lost a sinner. She and her hounds will find them, if anyone in the Three Spheres can.”

* * *

It had been many centuries now since the last time Lilith was summoned. She’d destroyed most of the rituals herself, after even the mortals started to get wind of how it was done, and in this degenerate age even witches had forgotten how to call upon their Mother for aid.

Even if they had...she was the Mother of Witches, the Mother of Demons. No lesser creature could compel her.

No lesser creature did.

The summons came unexpectedly, in the middle of the day’s business. The Three Plague Kings had come to court again, clamouring to hear again what orders Lucifer had given her before going forth to bring a new age of sin to the mortal world...or possibly just to drink and cavort and intoxicate himself until he grew bored of indulging himself. At this point, who could say? Certainly not Lilith.

The Lord she’d thought she’d served all these centuries, as Hell measured it, had been nothing. One of her own rebellious children, now dead at the King’s hand. She had been fortunate not to follow him, and if he ever learnt of the Plague Kings’ attempts on Sabrina’s life, they would not be long in doing so either.

Normally, a summons was like...well, she supposed it must be like a prayer, or hearing one’s name called across a crowded room.

Not this time.

This summons caught her like a fishhook, dragging her up, her essence twisting painfully, what was left of her soul caught agonisingly in a will stronger and older even than her own.

Lilith was gone from the throne room before there was even time enough to scream.

She rematerialised on Earth, in a summoning circle, and there- ah, there was Lucifer. Her Lord and Master once again, despite all her efforts to break free of him.

Still, she knew her role, and slid formally to one knee, her head bowed.

“Dark Lord,” she breathed.

“Get up.” Lucifer’s voice cracked like a whip, and Lilith rose. Testingly, she slid a toe to the edge of the innermost circle, and jerked it back as pain lanced through her.

How much had he  _ learnt _ ?

“As you bid me,” she said quickly, “As ever.”

Lucifer snorted. “You’ve never done ‘as I bid you’ in millennia, Lilith, so don’t start that now. I need to borrow one of your new subjects.”

“...they are at your service, Dark Lord. As am I.” Emphasising her obedience had always worked before. If he had truly learnt what Baphomet had had her do, she could point to that again. She had obeyed the commands of what she had believed to be her sworn and rightful Lord. She would not question any order that came from Lucifer, would not defy him, and so all blame must attach to he who had given the order. Perhaps it would even work - Lucifer had a way of being exacting when it came to blame.

“Spare me the grovelling. You will inform Mallt-y-Nos that she is to bring every hound she has to Los Angeles, and there search the city from top to bottom for this mortal, and this half-witch.”

From the inside pocket of his beautifully-cut suit, he produced a photograph, and held it out between two fingers, just over the edge of the summoning circle. For a moment, Lilith considered lashing out, severing hand and fingers, before she caught herself. She would be in trouble enough as things stood.

With shaking fingers, she took the picture.

It was no surprise that it showed Sabrina, smiling brightly in cream-coloured shorts and a red shirt, a bright red scarf knotted around her waist like a belt. The other child, though-

“...both of them, Dark Lord?” she asked, frowning at the image. Dear God, how many such creatures had Lucifer managed to spawn? The girl was some years younger than Sabrina, with dark braids and dark eyes, and a pair of black horns worn strapped under her chin 

“Both of them. Together or apart. They are to be found, and returned to me, here, alive and as unharmed as can be managed. As for whoever is holding them…” he paused, drawing the moment out, then his teeth flashed in a vicious grin. “Bring them too. Alive. If not necessarily unharmed.”

Lilith’s eyebrows lifted. “...they were taken?” she asked. “From  _ you _ ?” She laughed, startling herself. “Six years on Earth have certainly dulled your edge. Time was, whoever stole from the Devil would already be screaming in the deepest pit by now.”

“Don’t trifle with me, Lilith,” Lucifer growled, prowling closer to the circle. “The Three Plague Kings.”

Lilith blinked, startled. “...what?”

“Beelzebub. Purson. Asmodeus,” Lucifer recited, impassive. “My spawn tells me they have made previous attempts on her life. You will learn if they have made another.”

Lilith’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. “And if they have?”

“ _ Inform _ me.” Lucifer snarled, his voice rising dangerously. “And if they  _ are  _ responsible for this, Lilith. If  _ any  _ of your offspring had anything to do with what happened to the urchin or my spawn…” he took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to something like calm again. “One of Father’s favourites once said that one day, Hell will be emptied, and its doors will rattle in the wind. How soon would you like that day to come, Lilith?”

“You-” Lilith swallowed, her throat dry. “You wouldn’t- Not to your own realm, your own subjects-”

“ _ Your _ subjects, now,” Lucifer reminded her harshly, for all the world as if she held her crown only so long as  _ he  _ permitted it, as long as no other angel was assigned to the rule of Hell. “And  _ don’t  _ presume to tell me what I will and will not do, Lilith! My patience for demonic scheming is at an end!”

“A wonder that I never saw it begin,” Lilith said sourly. “But if...If I were to bring you the guilty from Hell…might you consider...limiting...your wrath to those truly deserving?”

For a moment, she thought he would refuse her, just for contrariness’s sake. His throat worked, and he half-turned away from her, facing the rest of the room, the high bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, the narrow balcony around the upper level and the windows overlooking a glittering city skyline. By the light, Lilith judged it some way past noon, not quite into early evening.

“...fine,” he said tightly. “You’ll bring them to me. But, whether or not you find them, you will return, to me, here, in twenty-four hours. Less, if you’ve found them by then. I’m sure you remember the consequences of failure.” 

His foot snaked out, smearing the chalk, breaking the circle, and Lilith felt the tethers of this mortal realm fall away, all at once. She breathed in, deep, the air of the mortal world to which she had been created, and longed for the sulphurous fumes of Hell.

“It shall be as you command, My Lord,” she said formally, bowed, and was gone.

* * *

Chloe was pacing.

She didn’t want to be, but after being politely but firmly herded away from the FBI investigation into her daughter’s kidnap - she knew, she  _ knew _ , logically, that having the parents hovering over your shoulder every minute of an investigation was usually more hindrance than help, but that didn’t stop the parts of her brain that were screaming at her that she ought to be doing something, not just standing around waiting for Lucifer to finish calling his contacts and come down with  _ something  _ they could use - there wasn’t much else left  _ for  _ her to do.

“Sit down,” Dan said from the bar, “You’ll wear a hole in the floor.”

“Lucifer can afford to replace it.”

“...yeah, I guess.” Dan paused. “...you think he’ll really have a contact who can help us?”

Chloe snorted. “I’ve...learnt not to question where Lucifer knows people. If this Mallt person can get hold of sniffer dogs, I’m willing to look the other way for Trixie’s sake.”

“...wow, that’s…” Dan shook his head. “That’s a change.”

Chloe glared at him. “You choose now to be picky about cutting procedural corners?”

“This...this isn’t just ‘cutting corners’, Chloe. We’re running an illegal investigation right under the noses of the FBI-”

“And as soon as we find anything, we’ll give it to them!”

“They seem like they know what they’re doing, Chlo. I mean, that Morgan guy? Used to be one of their top profilers, apparently. Helped catch that guy...what’d they call him? In Boston?”

“The Reaper?” Chloe blinked, grudgingly impressed. That particular case had become law enforcement legend almost as soon as it broke. “Okay, so he knows what he’s doing. But so do we. And I- No offence to Agent Morgan, but I’m pretty sure Lucifer’s got contacts he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but...sniffer dogs? If the FBI thought they needed ‘em, they’d probably have ‘em out by now…”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Lucifer’s voice came from the direction of the elevator. Chloe looked around. He was standing in the doorway, looking faintly smug. Or trying to. His posture was wrong. Too sharp, too alert. He hadn’t truly relaxed since they’d got the news. “Which normally I’m all in favour of, but not in this case.”

“Any news?” Chloe asked, her heart in her throat.

Lucifer nodded. “Oh, yes. Come on. Bar staff’ll be arriving soon, and I think this would be better discussed somewhere private.”

Hard to argue with the logic of that, though Dan grumbled as they cramped into Lucifer’s elevator, and he pressed a finger to the new, absurdly high-tech lock he’d installed since Sabrina’s arrival.

The ride up was spent in silence, for all that Chloe was nearly vibrating out of her skin with the need to ask what it was Lucifer had found, and how he’d done it, and when the elevator doors slid open again, it was on a scene almost out of a cartoon.

Salem, Sabrina’s cat, flew at Lucifer with claws out almost as soon as the door was open, scrambling up his body with slightly desperate speed, hissing and spitting at the pony-sized black dog sitting impassively at the foot of his ridiculous elaborate cat palace. 

Lucifer didn’t even complain about the damage to his clothes, scooping the cat up distractedly and idly scratching at its ears, his eyes still fixed on the woman standing behind the sofa.

“Detective, Daniel, may I introduce Night Mallt,” he said crisply. “She and her hounds will be searching for our offspring.”

Chloe stared. So did Dan.

“How…?” he managed. “How’d you get them up here? Were- Were they up here this whole time? Or is there another way out of here?”

“I summoned them,” Lucifer said, with a tight, mirthless smile. “Or, I had Lilith do it. You can see the circle just over there, I haven’t had time to clean it up yet.”

Chloe looked. There was, indeed, a chalk circle drawn on the floor by Lucifer’s library, elaborate geometric signs inside and all around it, like something out of the sort of B-horror movie that involved drunken coeds inadvertently summoning demons and generally ended in buckets of gore. Maze was, unfortunately, addicted to them, so Chloe had developed a pretty good eye since she’d moved in.

Dan snorted. “Okay, don’t tell us. So, this was the big favour you had to call in? Sniffer dogs?”

“Among...other things...yes.” Lucifer’s hands didn’t stop stroking over Salem’s head, for all he could barely stand to be in the same room as the cat most of the time and complained theatrically about how much Sabrina doted on him. 

“Want to elaborate on those?” Chloe asked, letting her eyes wander over ‘Night Mallt’ herself. She looked...worryingly normal. A slim, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in her late twenties or early thirties, not much younger than Chloe herself, dressed professionally in a dark suit. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise around Lucifer. What made her unsettling, though, were her eyes and the way she carried herself, straight-backed and poised, and seeming to look straight through you. 

Lucifer looked pained. “...you wouldn’t approve of them.”

“Lucifer, if this is something illegal…” Chloe started, not sure how she was going to finish that sentence. This whole investigation was illegal, they all knew it, but that wasn’t what she meant. Whatever criminal dealings Lucifer had had before their partnership - and there  _ had  _ been criminal dealings, she knew - she’d been content to let lie, for now. She’d never learnt the full extent of it. She was a little afraid, now, of what she’d find if she looked.

“Believe me,” Night Mallt put in, “There is no mortal law that forbids him.”

Her voice was low and smoky, with a purring accent - French, Chloe thought, though she couldn’t place it exactly, and it could easily be French Canadian or one of the hundreds of other places where that was the primary language - and a self-satisfied edge to it that Chloe couldn’t help disliking.    
Still, the woman was helping to find Trixie. She could put up with a lot, for that.

“Ms...Mallt, isn’t it?” she asked, as professionally as she could. “ _ Thank you _ for doing this. I- I can’t imagine what Lucifer did to get you to-”

“Matilda, please,” Mallt said, with a courteous dip of the head in Chloe’s direction. “And he did nothing. I was commanded here. My hounds and I will find your daughter, Detective Decker. If anything can.”

“Speaking of which,” Lucifer said quickly, “Why don’t you get on with doing that? I’m sure your hounds are eager to be off.”

He was actually holding the cat a little more tightly against his chest, Chloe saw, and almost wanted to smile at the picture it made.

“As you command,” Mallt said smoothly, and actually  _ bowed _ , smartly, from the waist, the way butlers did in old movies, in Lucifer’s direction. Lucifer gave the barest of answering nods - acknowledging and accepting his due - and Chloe’s skin crawled.

She had never imagined Lucifer’s hands were perfectly clean. His drug habit was an open secret around the precinct, and he seemed to know somebody in every major criminal operation in this city - and where he didn’t, he never seemed to have any trouble establishing one over the course of their cases, people who would never open up to a cop. She’d relied on that, more than once, but now-

Now, she had to wonder just how deep those connections went.

Dan was thinking it too, she could tell. It didn’t make any sense, she could not picture a less likely kingpin than Lucifer, except-

Except however he made his money, it wasn’t Lux. Her background check had picked  _ that  _ much up. It made decent money, but not the bottomless funds Lucifer always seemed to be able to call upon. Except he had a network of favours throughout LA and further afield that amounted almost to an empire. Except that he seemed to command the devoted loyalty of far too many dangerous people, and whatever it was his and Amenadiel’s rift had been over, it had clearly been serious enough that Lucifer had been afraid of assassination at one point.

Not a cult. A crime family. It felt like a betrayal just considering it, after everything, but- Could it be true, and if it was...what would she do about it? Her partner, her best friend despite it all, someone she’d trusted- And she’d thought finding out the truth about Dan, and about Palmetto Street, had been warning enough that her judgement of men wasn’t to be trusted-

Mallt was already leaving the room, her dogs padding obediently after her. The smallest of them was still waist-high to Chloe, great black-furred beasts with gleaming teeth and eyes that seemed to glow green, reflecting the light, but tame as puppies to Mallt’s command.

“...Lucifer,” she said slowly. “How do you know that woman?”

Lucifer looked shifty. “Mallt?”

“Was there another woman in here?” Dan asked snidely, staring at Lucifer as if he could not recognise him.   
“Yes, actually, but she’s left. And as for Mallt…” Lucifer looked after her, and for a moment, Chloe couldn’t read his expression. “I...suppose I am still technically her king. I haven’t formally abdicated the position, after all.”

“...abdicated,” Chloe repeated, slowly.

“Lilith rules, at the moment,” Lucifer added, sounding almost distracted. “But she does not  _ reign _ . There is an unsubtle distinction.”

That...would explain the money. And the rifts with Maze and Amenadiel, the responsibility they’d wanted him to return to. And, she supposed, why she’d never been able to find anything in US records about drowned children that matched Lucifer’s account. They had no record of who Lucifer might have been or where he might’ve lived before all of this, former ruler of some tiny European micronation would fit-

It was also a theory straight out of  _ The Princess Diaries _ .

Maybe Lucifer was a mob boss, and maybe he was exiled royalty - hell, he could be the  _ actual  _ Devil for all Chloe cared, so long as his connections, whatever they were, helped bring Trixie safely home.

“All right,” she said steadily. “No offence to your friend, but I’m not about to take her word for it. So, tell us whatever the FBI told you. All of it. We don’t have very much time.”


	3. Chapter 3

There wasn’t much.

The FBI had let all of them go before they’d been able to determine anything more than the crime scene could tell them, but even that was more than they’d let slip to the grieving parents...well, any of them but Lucifer, who had his own ways of getting information.

There had been a struggle. Not much of one. Sabrina had been stabbed in the doorway, going by the blood splatter, and Trixie had tried to put up a fight, but been fairly easily overwhelmed. The FBI at this point suspected the work of a team - the girls had been carried out, not dragged, and though they were both relatively light, that would still be hard going for a man alone.

No sign of forced entry - Sabrina had opened the door to them - but they’d needed to stab her to get inside. But if Trixie had been the real target, why not leave Sabrina where she fell? Awful as it was to think it...there was nothing to be gained for a predatory paedophile in taking them both. Offenders of that sort tended to have very fixed, narrow ranges. If this was a team, it was possible that their obsessions fell into different ranges, and that’s why they’d chosen to take them both- But that interpretation had holes in it as well. Sabrina hadn’t even been supposed to be in the apartment today, and Chloe- Everyone always said they would’ve noticed, but since Malcolm, Chloe couldn’t _stop_ looking for people following them, and she’d seen nothing. A deliberate abductor after Trixie would have needed to scope out the apartment, learn their routines, learn when she was vulnerable, especially to take her straight from their _apartment_. And after Malcolm...Chloe couldn’t be sure, but if she hadn’t noticed it, she was quite sure Maze would’ve done.

“Lucifer,” she said slowly, “...have you- have you noticed anyone...strange...hanging around Lux? Or- Or anywhere you and Sabrina have been together?”

“No.” Lucifer was staring down at his hands. “No. But with Sabrina’s enemies, that doesn’t count for much.”

“Wait, Sabrina’s enemies?” Dan demanded. “You mean _your_ enemies-”

“No, I mean hers. They were hers first.” Lucifer’s mouth twitched. “Her aunt’s ex-husband, one Father Faustus Blackwood, recently escaped custody in Massachusetts.”

A chill went up Chloe’s spine. She’d heard only the barest bones of what had happened in the lead-up to Lucifer’s arrival in Sabrina’s life, but what little there had been was bad enough.

“Blackwood?” she asked. “As in- Mass-poisoning Blackwood?”

“The same.”

“Mass-” Dan started, then broke off. “Okay. Okay, you’ve got a mass-murdering psychopath for a brother-in-law. Don’t know why I’m surprised by that…”

“I did say he was her _ex_ -husband,” Lucifer reminded him. “And what he did to Zelda was arguably the worst crime of the lot, so far as I’m concerned. But he _does_ have a grudge against Sabrina, and the means to carry it out.” His jaw worked. “And if he is in this city, Mallt and her hounds will find him. That might actually be the best option.”

“...a mass-murderer might have our daughters, and that’s the best option?” Dan demanded, his voice rising.

“Lucifer,” Chloe prodded, “Is- Is there any possibility that your mother might have something to do with this?”

Because if Sabrina really had been the target - however much it infuriated her to think that her Trixie might have been taken just as collateral damage to the Morningstar family’s drama.

Lucifer breathed in deep. “...I hope not, but…”

“So that’s a yes.”

“It’s a _maybe_ ,” Lucifer protested. “She has...made certain remarks...about Sabrina and my attachment to her, but-”

“Any threats?” Chloe asked, her voice hard.

Lucifer frowned. “No...no, she’s not the type. There wasn’t any warning last time either.”

“Last time?” Dan was gaping at him. “You mean your mom’s done this sort of shit before?”

Lucifer turned away, and they watched him make his way to the bar and jerkily pour out a shot of something clear and pungent.

“...yeah,” Chloe said, when it became clear Lucifer wasn’t going to. “She...Lucifer told me, the night Sabrina arrived, that his mom had...had reacted badly to her. And that she’d- that he believed she was responsible for the deaths of her other grandchildren.”

All the blood was draining from Dan’s face.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s- I’m sorry, man. But- But why would she take _Trixie_?”

“I don’t _know_!” Lucifer snarled, wheeling to face them. The glass shattered in his hand, and he cursed under his breath in a guttural language Chloe didn’t recognise as blood and alcohol went everywhere. He glanced down at his hand, looking almost offended by the injury, and drew in a short, sharp breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, a bit more levelly. “But it shouldn’t be too hard to find out. Mum isn’t subtle.”

“Do you know where she’s staying?” Chloe asked. 

Lucifer “I know how to contact her,” he said, which was not quite a yes...but wasn’t a no either. “Amenadiel should be able to tell you where she is, since he’s the one still on speaking terms with her.”

“All right. I want to be there when you meet with her.”

Lucifer glanced up at her. “That...may not be possible.”

“What do you mean ‘may not be possible’?” Dan demanded. “If she has our daughter- We should at least tell Agent Morgan about the threats, what’s her name?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Goddess! Of all Creation, trust me, it isn’t going to help! Even if they could arrest her, they’d never be able to hold her long enough to get her to give up what she knows…”

That was worrying. But it didn’t exactly help. It could just be a case of Lucifer once again attributing near-omniscience to his parents. It was a common thing, she’d heard from a colleague with a specialty in abuse cases, after she’d started digging into Lucifer’s past. An abuser seeming all-powerful despite all logic or evidence. But...she couldn’t stop thinking about Matilda, and how that whole interaction had read.

If Lucifer came from a crime family...then maybe it was just a matter of influence, power. God knew Chloe wasn’t fool enough to believe the system was incorruptible, not after how much shit she’d caught for Palmetto, and for all that she’d mostly forgiven Dan, it was hard to forget that she’d been given a harder time for trying to catch a dirty cop than he had for actually _being_ dirty.

Or- That third theory. Diplomatic immunity? It sounded crazy, but...so was everything about Lucifer and his family. It still made less sense than ‘mob boss’ in pure logistics terms...except that Lucifer, even at his worst...he’d never been a killer. And, last Chloe looked, that had been rather a requirement for rising so high in any organised crime syndicate. And-

And Chloe could dig into that later. Right now, all that mattered was Trixie and Sabrina, and what someone - Lucifer’s mother, or this Father Blackwood, or just some random kidnapper with a thing for little girls - might be doing to them at this very moment.

“If you’re _protecting_ her-” Dan started.

Lucifer glared at him. “Believe me, she doesn’t need _my_ protection. Her arresting officer, on the other hand…” 

Dan made a disgusted noise. “I’ll take the risk, what’s her name?”

“I told you.”

Chloe might’ve rolled her eyes had the situation been any less serious. “Lucifer, this really isn’t the time-”

“Do you seriously believe I’m playing games right now?” Lucifer snapped. “Much as I appreciate your concern for your spawn, Detective, she isn’t the only one missing! And even if she were...you...you have to know I’d do anything to protect that little urchin. As much as I would for Sabrina.”

How was it that Lucifer could be so infuriating one moment, and then come out with something like that?

“Then tell us what we need to know,” Chloe said, crossing the room to stand beside him, and setting her hand on his as he reached for another glass without even bothering to attend to his bleeding hand. “Lucifer- We need to find the person responsible for this.”

Lucifer was still, and then. “Charlotte Richards,” he said quietly.

Dan made an awful choked noise. “What?”

“I’m still sure you won't be able to touch her,” Lucifer warned, “But if Mum is behind this, you’ll find Charlotte Richards’ grubby little fingerprints all over it.”

“That’s...you can’t seriously be suggesting Charlotte would-” Dan said shakily, his voice cracking on Charlotte’s name.

Chloe, though, was already thinking back.

“...the trial,” she said slowly, “Perry Smith’s trial. Charlotte...the deal she offered me, was that…”

“Mum’s idea, yeah.”

Chloe stared at him. “Your _mother_ wanted me to publicly humiliate you in court by calling you a liar?”

Lucifer gave the barest of answering nods, his eyes shadowed.

Chloe couldn’t think of anything to say to that but: “Why?”

“Because...she doesn’t approve of you. Or…” he managed a brief, mirthless huff of laughter, “Anything about my life here. All that _matters_ to her, detective, is that I return to the Silver City with her and Amenadiel when the time comes. Anything that ties me to this plane is in the way of that.” He snorted. “Add in how disgusted she was when she found out I’d had a child with one of you humans - well, two of you,” he corrected. “And that makes her probably the likeliest suspect. Oh, I don’t doubt Father Blackwood would’ve wanted to take Sabrina, but what interest could he have had in the urchin? Unless he wanted to eat her, I suppose.”

“Not funny, Lucifer.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

Chloe’s stomach churned. Lucifer’s voice was grim. Did he- No. No, he couldn’t seriously believe-

“None of that means Charlotte was involved this time,” Dan argued. “She’s not- I know you two have some baggage, but she wouldn’t-”

“Charlotte Richards, acting of her own accord, might have rather more limits,” Lucifer allowed, his eyes narrowing. “But that isn’t what we’re dealing with here.”

Dan froze. “...you mean your mom...she might be forcing her somehow? Blackmail or- or-”

“I am quite sure Charlotte Richards has not chosen to do my mother’s bidding,” Lucifer said carefully. It was not, Chloe noticed, quite confirmation. But what else could it be?

Dan swallowed. “Let- Then I’ll talk to her, if she’s willing to make a deal…”

Lucifer was silent, staring down at his bleeding hand. There were still bits of glass embedded in the flesh there, Chloe saw, it had to be unimaginably painful, but there he was, just staring.

“You can talk to her,” he said, “But she won’t bend.”

“You can’t know that!”  
“I know her better than you do.”

Dan scoffed. “What, are you jealous? Is that it? You’re leaving Trixie - leaving your own daughter in danger because you don’t want me talking to your ex?”

“ _For the last time_ , Charlotte Richards is _not_ my ex!” Lucifer actually shouted, his voice rising alarmingly. “And even if she were,” he added, this time addressing Chloe directly. “Do you think I’d _care_ who she was sleeping with? While I do deplore her taste-”

“You know what, fuck you, man-”

“-It doesn’t have anything to do with this abduction, or the fact that she can run circles around Daniel because he doesn’t have any idea who or what he’s dealing with!”

Chloe had never seen anything extraordinary about Charlotte Richards. Just another snake of a defence attorney...a snake of a defence attorney who seemed far, far too invested in Lucifer’s family drama all of a sudden. She thought about Maze, and about Matilda, about that strange, obsessive breed of loyalty Lucifer seemed to be able to inspire in people who seemed otherwise entirely rational. If that was a family characteristic...she’d never seen Amenadiel do it, but it was possible…

“So tell us,” she said. “Like you said, your mom is the likeliest culprit you can think of. If Charlotte is the way to her, the FBI needs to know.”

Lucifer caught her gaze, held it, and then looked away.

“I should start at the beginning.”

* * *

Sabrina came to in darkness and in pain, with the soft, snuffling sounds of someone trying not to cry close by.

“Trix?” she hissed into the dark, trying to lever herself upright as best she could with her hands bound behind her, the place where the knife had gone in aching dully, a low throbbing pain completely unlike a superficial cut. Was this how it had felt for Agatha, when Sabrina had drawn that knife across her throat? It was slow going, and difficult, but she managed it on the second try, her shoulders and elbows aching in protest. “Trixie, is that you?”

A smothered sniffle, and then. “Y-yeah. I tried to fight them-”

“I know you did”

“I got one of them’s fingers!” Trixie sounded proud of that, and Sabrina couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Maze’s lessons paid off, huh?”

“But they didn’t!” It was almost a wail. “I couldn’t stop them.”

“Trix-” Sabrina said quickly, “Trix. It- It’s not your fault, okay? I’ve...I’ve tangled with these guys before. Or- Or something like them, anyway…”

She’d _known_ , she’d known the moment they’d said they were missionaries, and she’d let herself forget anyway. She should never have opened the door to them. She should’ve slammed it in their faces the moment they mentioned their religion and done her best to get Trixie out the window on the other side - she was pretty sure she could take them both on the vacuum if it came to it - but she hadn’t, and now here they were in the stinking dark with no sign of where they were or how they might get out.

Wherever they were, it was close and confined, with hardly enough space for her to sit up half-slumped against what felt like a wooden wall beneath her fingers when she stretched them out to see how much give there was in the ropes.

“You have?” Trixie hissed.

Sabrina nodded, then remembered that Trixie couldn’t see her. “Yeah. They attacked my school once, a few weeks before I came to LA.”

“Your _school_ school or…”

“The Academy.” Sabrina rested her head against the wall behind her. There was something sticky taped over the wound in her side, and her head felt strangely fuzzy. “I wasn’t there at the time, since I’d been expelled by then, but…”

“Why’d you get expelled?”

“Ruined my aunt’s wedding. To the headmaster, so…” she paused. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Trixie mumbled, and then, a little fearfully. “Are you-”

“I’ll be fine,” Sabrina lied through a strangled gasp, as another thrum of pain went through her.

“You don’t sound fine.” It was almost a whine.

“Yeah. But they-” Sabrina blinked. “...they don’t want me dead yet,” she said, confused, blinking in the dark. “Or they wouldn’t have bothered with the band-aid, but…”

She’d killed two of their guys in Greendale. And she was the literal Antichrist. Why _wouldn’t_ the Order of the Innocents want her dead?

Unless-

“We’re bait,” she said, in dawning horror.

“For Lucifer?”

“Who else?” she paused. “I mean, no offence to your mom, but...these people don’t care about mortal laws. Maybe if she was investigating them, but…” she stopped. “Trix- Trix, I need you to keep it together-”

“I _am_ keeping it together!” Trixie protested. “I _told_ them Mommy and Lucifer would come for us.”

And when they did, they were going to have a horrible surprise. None of which really necessitated keeping them _alive_ , unless...if they just meant to kill Lucifer, why keep her alive? He’d be lured in as surely by a dead daughter as a living one. And why take Trixie at all? She was as human as they came...but Lucifer cared about her too.

And if they knew that, that meant they’d been keeping track of Lucifer’s movements, meant they knew who he was and who he loved, had been observing him all this time.

‘Do what I say or I’ll kill your daughter’ only worked so long as she was alive. With two of them...the Order could kill either one of them to show that they were serious, and still use the other to get Lucifer to do...whatever it was they wanted him to do, if they didn’t just mean to kill him right off the bat.

“And that’s…that’s really good. You’re doing...much better than I am, honestly.”

“They will come for us, right?” Trixie’s voice was smaller than Sabrina had ever heard it.

Sabrina swallowed. She could tell Trixie what she’d worked out- 

But all it would do was frighten her, and she’d be frightened enough already, even if she was determined not to show it. And with Sabrina injured and unable to focus long enough to put a spell together, worrying her more wouldn’t change anything.

“Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, they will. And then they’ll be sorry.”

If only she could be sure which ‘they’ that would be.

* * *

Derek Morgan was fast reaching the end of his rope.

Nothing had jumped out from Detective Decker’s life - the only people who seemed to have any serious grudges against her were her own colleagues, over an investigation into a dirty cop last year that had apparently ruffled everyone’s feathers, not helped by the fact she’d been right. Corruption was a fact of life in law enforcement, but everything he could find on Decker said she was clean as a whistle. Then again, that would’ve been reason enough, in some of the departments Morgan had seen.

Detective Espinoza, Beatrice Decker’s father, had been another option. He’d been dirty enough it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his job after the Palmetto case had broken open, and in Morgan’s experience dirt tended to stick. Still, nothing had really jumped out. He was still on good terms with most of his colleagues, even, despite it all, which made Morgan think that Internal Affairs needed to take a good look at this precinct to see just how deep the rot went. But he too hadn’t noticed anyone hanging around, couldn’t think of anyone with a specific grudge and the only person he owed money to was dead - dead after attempting to kidnap this same child, even, which would’ve been a connection if it hadn’t been quite thoroughly proven that Malcolm Graham had been working alone.

Morningstar was at once a lot easier and a lot harder to get a handle on. Apparently universally popular at the precinct - the only person who had anything really negative to say about him was Detective Espinoza, and even that was more fond annoyance than anything - but with a web of connections that went beyond ‘shady’ into outright criminal and a history of trading ‘favours’ like some kind of modern-day Godfather. No evidence of criminal activity himself, beyond a drug habit that he seemed to be more-or-less on top of, and his financials were...clean, at least on the surface. No debts - well, what would be the point of borrowing when you had that sort of money to throw around - and his tax records were so perfect that the IRS had investigated him twice in the certainty that he must be getting away with murder somewhere, even if he was paying more federal income tax than most megacorporations.

None of them reported seeing any shady characters around either Trixie or Sabrina, though Morningstar admitted that living above a nightclub meant that he couldn’t say nobody had been hanging around his apartment. 

Victimology wasn’t much help either - the girls were connected only through their parents. That was what had brought them into one another’s orbit. The case could be about either one of them, with the other as collateral damage, taken to prevent them from IDing an abductor, or about both, or an attack aimed at Decker, Espinoza, Morningstar or all three.

Everything about the way this abduction had been carried out was characterised by a strange mixture of organisation and carelessness. The abductors had either not been known to their victims, or not been trusted enough to get into the apartment without stabbing the babysitter at the door. Sabrina Spellman was a small-town girl, she might’ve opened the door to anyone, or the abductors might have appeared harmless - maybe they _were_ known to her, just not well enough to let them inside. The apartment was clean of prints, and it must’ve taken some foresight to be able to leave the building with an injured teenager and a struggling child without anyone seeing or hearing anything amiss. There were signs of a struggle - the younger girl, Trixie, had tried to put up a fight, but almost any adult could’ve easily overpowered a child that age. And that would make perfect sense except that whoever her abductor had been, he’d lost a couple of fingers somewhere in the Deckers’ kitchen, and he was pretty sure no child that age could’ve done that. Forensics were running the prints now, but hope wasn’t high.

Still, to take a child from their own home was a sophisticated, high-risk crime. That usually meant a high-functioning offender. He’d have said good social skills, if it weren’t for the stabbing. If they’d had to stab one of their targets just to get in the door, that said otherwise, and if all they’d intended was to murder Sabrina Spellman because Trixie was the real target, why bother to take her at all? She’d still opened the door to them, and there was a spyhole in the door, so they’d appeared trustworthy even if she hadn’t known them. A neighbour or a maintenance worker, maybe, who’d claimed some form of emergency inside, but hadn’t been sufficiently compelling to get her to let him in. Morningstar had implied some form of traumatic incident at Sabrina’s former home in Greendale that wasn’t in the records, so it was possible that Sabrina Spellman already knew to be suspicious. If he’d been delivering a profile, he’d have said this guy would have a steady job, would fit in in the Deckers’ neighbourhood, would be someone you wouldn’t be afraid to see your kids talking to in passing.

In a city this size, though, there were thousands of men who fit that description, and some of them probably even were as trustworthy as they seemed. The abductor had to have known there would be a child in the apartment. He might even have known when Chloe Decker and her roommate Mazikeen Smith would be away, except...Detective Decker wasn’t supposed to be at work today. So either she had a stalker, or one of the girls did, or it hadn’t mattered to the abductor _who_ he had to kill to get into the apartment. Sabrina’s disappearance might just be a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe they’d even meant to kill Detective Decker, for her own sake or just because removing the parents from play meant that the case might disappear more quickly than it would with Trixie’s mother, a detective with one of the best closure rates in her department, alive and determined to recover her daughter, whether or not she was officially on the case.

Even the most disorganised of offenders wouldn’t just go door-to-door hoping to happen upon a little girl who fit their preferences. They would have to have learnt Trixie Decker’s address somewhere.

Mr Morningstar - Lucifer, and really, who _called_ themselves that? - had seemed pretty convinced that this was about Sabrina. But the MO didn’t fit a kidnap for ransom - why take another child whose parents couldn’t afford to pay even half of what Morningstar would for his daughter’s safe return, and why injure the golden goose, and raise the possibility, however little her father might want to acknowledge it, that Sabrina Spellman might already be dead - and the decision to take the girls from someone else’s apartment spoke more to a knowledge of the Deckers’ area than Lucifer Morningstar’s nightclub and the penthouse above it. Not that that ruled out a stalker, but it wouldn’t be Morgan’s first guess.

Stranger abductions were always harder to solve than those with a clear culprit, and in a city the size of LA, they might never find the girls, alive or dead. He had his people combing through registered sex offenders in the Deckers’ neighbourhood - going through every sex offender in LA, even just the ones that targeted minors, would take far, far too long for Sabrina and Trixie - but his gut told him this wasn’t a child molestation case. The disparate ages of the girls, the fact they’d both been taken...two offenders with different preferences was a possibility, but what were the odds of them finding an apartment with two victims fitting their types by pure chance? He needed something he could work with.

He didn’t doubt that he could find it eventually. But that might be too late for Trixie and Sabrina. What he needed, at this stage, was a Hail Mary.

Fortunately, Lucifer Morningstar wasn’t the only one with some unorthodox contacts.

He grabbed his phone off the table, and typed in an old, familiar number.

“Hey, babygirl. It’s me. I need a favour.”

* * *

His Detective hadn’t believed half of what he’d told her, but she’d listened. Dan had stormed out at about the point where Lucifer reached Mum’s admission to having planned to blow Chloe up, but not before exploding at Lucifer.

“Blow- Your mom used whatever hold she has on Charlotte to get her to try and blow Chloe up? You’re really telling me that _Charlotte_ was willing to get involved with that? That’s- No. You know what, you really _are_ crazy. I can’t believe you’re making us sit here and listen to this while _our kids are in danger_ \- That’s _both_ our kids, why are you wasting our time with this when Sabrina’s in trouble too? Don’t you _want_ to save them?”

Considering Daniel didn’t seem to have been on social terms with the real Charlotte Richards - certainly not enough to notice any difference in her attitudes, friends or behaviour - this seemed a bit rich to Lucifer, and he’d said so, which had been the point at which Dan stormed out.

Chloe hadn’t taken it brilliantly either. Which- All right, he hadn’t _told_ her that Mum was out for her blood, but he hadn’t _known_ until after the threat was over and She’d moved on to just trying to break them up the mundane way, or as close to it as Mum ever came. Besides, if Amenadiel could talk Her out of it She couldn’t have been that set on murder in the first place - it wasn’t as if he was the charismatic one in this family. All right, he did better than Uriel, but so did practically everyone - Dad alone knew why Dad had chosen him to give the heavenly welcoming speech, because there had to be several hundred angels better-suited to the job, and probably not a few virtuous humans - and it wasn’t as if he’d ever been Mum’s favourite, even just between the two of them. If She’d really been dead-set on murder, Chloe...Chloe would be dead. And Mum-

He pushed the thought away. 

Amenadiel wasn’t at his apartment when Lucifer reached it, which meant he was either with Mum or at his office in Doctor Linda’s building, and Lucifer’s money was on the former. Dad knew he couldn’t have much use for the office, since he was both not a practicing psychiatrist and one of the least qualified people Lucifer knew to give anyone life advice about anything, especially anything involving human nature. Or divine nature, given he was still giving Mum a chance.

Lucifer...he couldn’t send Mum back to Hell. He didn’t have the wings, and if he just took Her to the Gates and shoved Her in, She’d be wandering around loose with Lilith in charge and he really, really didn’t want to imagine how that particular meeting of the minds would go. Either they’d get along famously or they’d hate each other, and he wasn’t sure which option would be more destructive.

But because he’d left Her running around on Earth, with free rein to carry out as many evil plots as what passed for Her heart desired, his daughter was missing, and so was the Detective’s spawn, and that couldn’t- He _couldn’t_ let that lie. If She’d done this...he didn’t know what he’d do then, but whatever it was, he wasn’t sure there’d be much left of him _or_ Mum by the end of it.

Mum could be anywhere in this city - She wasn’t living with Charlotte Richards’ family anymore, he knew that much, and if Amenadiel knew what She was doing he’d know enough to know She’d have to hide, because Lucifer had told him himself. If Amenadiel had had any part of this-

He didn’t want to believe it. But it had been Amenadiel who freed Malcolm Graham from Hell and set Lucifer up to take the blame for his crimes. He’d been making apologies for Mum this whole time. And he’d said he didn’t want to see Sabrina hurt, but that wasn’t the same thing as being willing to stand against Mum, now they’d joined forces. Mum alone wouldn’t even think to hide.

If he didn’t know- Then he would be with Linda, with Maze out of town and Daniel otherwise occupied, or Linda would know where to find him. Lucifer hoped that he was with Linda. He’d never actually fought Amenadiel - not properly, not at full strength, with both of them looking to kill each other. If he had his wings, it would hardly have been worth fighting at all. Only Father and Michael had been able to match him, then. In this weakened state, and with Amenadiel at full power, perhaps Amenadiel could beat him. With Amenadiel haemorrhaging divinity at the rate he was, though...then the balance of power skewed towards Lucifer again. He wasn’t sure which outcome he feared more.

When he reached Doctor Linda’s building, Amenadiel’s door was locked, and no amount of hammering on it produced an answer. Even when Lucifer lost his patience and the door opened, the place looked...bare. Stripped down. Amenadiel’s desk was gone, the couch, the books, the plant he’d stubbornly managed to keep alive, or just kept resurrecting when it wilted...every trace that his brother had ever used this space was gone.

Something cold gripped at Lucifer’s heart. He’d been right. Amenadiel was gone. He’d fled with Mum. He’d been in on this. Everything he’d said about Mum having changed, about how Lucifer was being paranoid, thinking Mum would do exactly what She threatened to, granddaughter or no...all of that had just been meant to throw Lucifer off the scent because for some reason, after everything, Lucifer had _trusted_ him-

A door opened somewhere nearby, Lucifer heard voices- Doctor Linda’s, he thought, and- and Amenadiel. He was here. He’d come here. Why, Lucifer didn’t know - it wasn’t as though Lucifer didn’t know he and Linda had somehow managed to make friends since the Malcolm thing, for some reason best known to themselves. And, just now, he didn’t care, because if Amenadiel could lead him to Mum, he’d take the risk that this was just another manipulation.

He was out of the door before he’d had time to think through any of that on a rational level, and had Amenadiel up against the wall beside Doctor Linda’s door before he was more than halfway through it.

“Where is She?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Amenadiel struggled, “What- Lucifer, what are you talking about? _Who_ are you talking about?”

“Mum,” Lucifer snapped, “Who else? I know She did this, brother, and I know you helped Her. It was a smart move, going into hiding, but next time? Cancel your therapy sessions first.”

“You’re not making any sense, Luci! I’m not in hiding! And neither is Mom, now what’s going on?”

Lucifer scoffed. “Nice try. But I’ve been to your office, there isn’t even a pot plant left-”

“Yes, _because I moved out!_ ” Amenadiel retorted. “Luci- Why are you doing this? It’s not as though I _need_ an office! I’m not even a real therapist-”

“Well, that never stopped you before!”

“Just- Just tell me what’s happened, and why you’re acting so-”

“Sabrina’s missing.”

The words came out all at a rush, as if by getting them out as quickly as possible he could avoid thinking about them too long, except that it was almost all he could think about. Sabrina, out there somewhere at the mercy of something far, far more powerful than she was. She’d fought long odds and won before, but those were only demons, nothing next to the power of the Goddess of All Creation.

Amenadiel’s face crumpled. “...what?”

“She’s missing. And I only know one person in this city who’d both be able to overpower her and might have reason to try it, so hand Her over. You have to know where Mum is.”

“I do, but- Luci, how can you be sure this was Her?”

Lucifer snorted. “No, it’s some ordinary human kidnapper who somehow managed to overcome one of the most powerful witches in the history of the world! Sabrina was summoning hellfire by sixteen, you think she can’t deal with human criminals? Of _course_ it was Mum! Who _else_?”

Amenadiel swallowed. “There must have been...I mean...Humans have been hunting witches almost since you first taught Lilith how to break the laws of reality, they must have learnt _something_ after this long…”

“Enough to capture a child of _mine_?” Lucifer demanded. “You saw how powerful the Nephilim were, and they were just half-Grigori! A child of Michael’s might be able to create a whole new universe, if they worked at it, or remake this one. Besides, Sabrina’s dealt with witch-hunters before-”

“Maybe she was taken by surprise! I don’t know, Luci! But Mom- Mom wouldn’t- Look, She’s even been trying to find out about other surviving Nephilim, trying to learn more. She just needed some time to get used to the idea-”

“ _Or_ She’s gearing up for another massacre, and since flooding isn’t an option anymore-”

“Okay,” Linda cut in, throwing up her hands. “I...think this is a discussion that needs to happen, but not one we should be having out here. The last thing any of us needs is to get you both sent back to Westridge.”

Lucifer drew in a hissing breath. “Fine,” he said shortly, stalking past her and into the office. “Fine.”

Somehow, he ended up sitting on Linda’s sofa with Amenadiel sitting on the other side of it, far enough away that he’d have to throw himself over half the couch to strangle him if it turned out he’d had _anything_ to do with this.

“So,” Amenadiel said. “What happened.”

Lucifer glared at him. “You mean you don’t already know? Mum had Sabrina and the Detective’s urchin taken from her apartment while Sabrina was babysitting. And, somewhere along the way, Sabrina came down with a bad case of knife-in-the-guts, is any of this sounding _familiar_?”

Amenadiel reeled back. “What- Is- Are they all right?”  
“I don’t _know_ , brother!” Lucifer’s voice cracked. “I don’t know because Mum still has them both. I’ve got searchers out, but if I’m right, if this _was_ Mum then they’ll never find Her and I can’t-” he broke off. “I need to know where Mum is. And where She’s keeping them.”

“And if it’s not Mom?” Amenadiel demanded. “What then?”

“It _is_ !” Lucifer snapped, half throwing himself to his feet and starting to pace. “It _has_ to be-”

“But what if it isn’t?”

Lucifer let out a bitter bark of laughter. “I’ll believe that when I see it. So, come on, what has She been doing?”

“It’s not like we’ve been hiding it from you!” Amenadiel said, spreading his arms, “You could’ve found out any time you liked if you’d just-”

“If I’d just what?” Lucifer demanded. “Gone crawling back? After what She said?”

“You’re the one who barred Her from Lux! If you hadn’t, you’d have found out that She was trying to apologise-”

“ _Forgive_ me, brother, but every time Mum’s apologised since She crawled out of Hell it’s been a cover for some kind of manipulation! Why should this time be any different?”

“Because-” Amenadiel stopped short. “Because- Look, I’ll admit, Mom is...set in Her ways. She hasn’t adapted to Earth yet, and She has...very set ideas...about the mingling of the human and the divine…”  
“The same ideas you started spouting when She suggested that ridiculous ‘get back to Heaven’ plan, you mean? How’d that work out for you both?”

Amenadiel glanced away. Lucifer blinked. Was that…

“...you did find something,” he said slowly. “Something important. What did you find?”

Amenadiel shifted uneasily. “It’s...Mom told me something, after you had your fight. About how She was going to get us back to Heaven. We were going to tell you, but _somebody_ stopped returning our calls and locked me out of the penthouse!”

“I’d have buzzed you in if you just called ahead,” Lucifer said mulishly. “The Detective’s been on at me to get better security since the Malcolm thing, I thought this seemed like the time…so, what did She tell you? And what does it have to do with Sabrina going missing?”

“Nothing,” Amenadiel gritted out, “Because She didn’t do it! Luci, do you think _I’d_ agree to this?”

“I don’t know,” Lucifer admitted. “I underestimated the lengths you’d go to once before if you remember. I’m not making that mistake again.”

Amenadiel flinched back as if he’d been struck. “I wouldn’t- Lucifer, I admit raising Malcolm was a mistake. I didn’t know what he was going to do-”

“But that didn’t stop you taking advantage, did it?”

In the shocked silence that followed those words, Linda drew in a breath.

“Okay,” she said, “Lucifer, that was...perhaps not technically inaccurate, but your brother has changed. As have you. And, while I can’t share the details of our sessions, I don’t believe that Amenadiel is quite so willing to resort to....more ruthless methods of achieving his goals. Can you- Does Sabrina’s family know what’s happened?”

“I’ve hardly had time to give them a ring, have I?” Lucifer snapped. “With any luck, and if we can find Mum, I’ll have her back before they even know anything’s wrong.”

They’d insist on her going home, after this, and Lucifer- Well, all right, he couldn’t say she wouldn’t be safer out of Mum’s reach, but they’d had so little _time_.

“Lucifer…” Linda was giving him the disappointed look again, for no reason Lucifer could satisfactorily understand - wasn’t he the one actually trying to find out what happened to Sabrina? It wasn’t his fault if Amenadiel wasn’t cooperating.

“Just- What’s Mum been doing? Anything that would-” he saw realisation flash across Amenadiel’s face, and pressed his advantage. “There was something. What was it?”

Amenadiel drew in a long, shaky breath. “Mom...told me something, the night you two had your fight. She told me that...that Dad didn’t destroy the Flaming Sword like he said he did.”

“So?”

“So...it’s here, on Earth. It’s...it’s Azrael’s blade, Luci. That’s the Flaming Sword. Mom was planning to use it to cut through the gates of Heaven, but what with you _finally_ deciding to update your security and putting Enochian wards over half your building…”

“She couldn’t get hold of it.”

A terrible coldness was starting to wash over Lucifer. Was that what She’d intended? A trade? His daughter for Her ticket home? Except- Mum had never made any secret of it that She wanted the whole family back together. And Sabrina...even if Lucifer had been willing to abandon everything in LA after all, Sabrina would still tie him to Earth. But- No. No, even Mum couldn’t think- Could she?

“I’ve been trying to research alternate possibilities,” Amenadiel offered, “But it’s been slow, and Mom- She’s really set on this, Luci…”

“And we both know she wouldn’t balk at using Sabrina to get what she wants,” Lucifer said grimly. “I need to know where she _is_ , Amenadiel.”

“I told you, I didn’t have anything to do with-”

“Not Sabrina! _Mum_!”

“Oh.” Amenadiel paused. “I know Charlotte Richards’ husband left Her, not long before you got back from Vegas. I think Mom kept the house, but…”

“Right, we’re going there. Come _on_ , brother, I can’t-” he stopped himself before he could finish that sentence. He _could_ do this alone, he just didn’t want to, and he wasn’t telling Amenadiel that.

“Luci- I know-” Amenadiel paused, his throat working through a swallow. “I know you can’t forgive what Mom’s done, if- if She really did do this. But- Please. Please, don’t kill Her. She doesn’t deserve-”

“Agree to disagree,” Lucifer half-snarled. He wasn’t sure he could kill Mum, even if he had the power to do it, but that- that didn’t seem to _matter_ just now.

“She’s our Mother, you can’t just-”

“And Dad is our Father, did that ever stop me before?” 

Amenadiel opened his mouth to snap back at him- And Lucifer’s phone went off. He fumbled for it, not taking his eyes off Amenadiel.

“Lucifer,” the Detective said at the other end of the line. “Lucifer, I’m at the precinct, you need to get there. They’ve brought someone in. You remember that reporter who was shadowing us last year?”

Lucifer blinked. “What, Reese?”

“I’m sorry, _Reese_?” Linda cut in.

“Yes, Reese! Agent Morgan brought him in. Can’t hold him on the kidnap charges, but they found enough at his office for a charge of stalking.”

“Stalking...Sabrina?” Lucifer asked, bewildered. _He_ hadn’t even known Sabrina existed when Reese tagged along on that case. 

Chloe huffed out a breath. “Stalking both of you, it looks like. Are you coming?”


	4. Chapter 4

Reese had never been on this end of an interrogation before. He was a reporter, his job was to ask the questions. The one time he’d even been into these interrogation rooms before, he’d been safe on the other side of the two-way mirror. He didn’t belong here, trying not to fidget under the scrutiny of some FBI agent looking to make his name by dragging Reese’s through the muck.

They’d arrested him at work. Dragged him out of his office with all his colleagues there watching and announced the charges so loud that everyone must’ve heard. Even if they didn’t charge him, he’d have a hell of a time explaining this at the office, and they’d probably never look at him the same way again, after everyone had seen his research. He could thank Agent Derek Morgan for that. He was better than this, he’d won a Pulitzer, goddamnit- But he had to admit, it didn’t look good if you didn’t know the whole truth. And he couldn’t tell the whole truth, because then it would be all too easy for Morningstar to deny the whole thing and make Reese look crazy or paranoid or dangerous so he’d never be able to warn Linda about what she’d gotten into bed with.

“I didn’t kidnap those girls,” he said, because he had to establish that right off the bat. “My boss can vouch for me, I was in my office when they were taken.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there, by the sound of it,” Agent Morgan said neutrally. “Apparently you slept there last night, and you’ve been locked in there since this morning.”

Reese stared at him. “What, is that a crime now? I tend to get wrapped up in my work.”

“Your wife doesn’t mind that?”

That stung. It had been the thing they fought about most. It had made sense when they married - they were both professionals, both dedicated to their careers, and they’d both accepted early on that, while they got established, their careers would have to take precedence. There’d be time to be together later. He couldn’t remember when, exactly, Linda had changed her mind about that.

“No,” he lied. “No, she doesn’t mind.”

“I’d imagine not. Given she left you two years ago. Your colleagues didn’t need to know about that?”

Reese paused. “We’re...going through a rough patch, but-”

“The divorce was finalised last year, wasn’t it?”

“What does my divorce have to do with two missing girls?” Reese demanded. 

Agent Morgan shrugged. “You tell me. That’s when all this started, isn’t it? Same day your divorce papers got signed, that’s when you stopped letting people into your office and started stalking one of your ex’s patients.”

Reese bridled. “What- I’m not- I’m not _stalking_ him! I’m investigating-”

“Investigating what?” Agent Morgan demanded. “Because I’ve got uniforms going through your office right now, and nothing they’ve turned up yet suggests anything a reporter of your calibre would be interested in writing about.”

Reese tried to collect himself. “Look. I _know_ how this looks, but I promise you, there is more going on here. Lucifer Morningstar is a dangerous man, and I’m going to prove it!”

“By abducting his daughter and seeing what happens?” Agent Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Okay. Not exactly the smart move if he really is what you seem to think he is, but you tell me something. What’s Trixie Espinoza got to do with any of this?”

Trixie Espinoza. He knew the name. Detective Decker’s daughter, whom she for some reason trusted Lucifer with. It made Reese sick to his stomach, thinking of that man being responsible for a child, to think of what he might do to corrupt someone so young.

“I _told_ you, I didn’t kidnap her!”

“Was she collateral damage?” Agent Morgan pressed. “Is that it? You wanted to get at Morningstar and she just got in the way?”

“No, I told you, this- This wasn’t me. There’s only one person responsible for whatever happened to that little girl.”

“And who is that?”

Reese gritted his teeth. “Lucifer. Morningstar.”

God, he couldn’t imagine what the kid must be going through, what her family must be going through, and every bit of it was Lucifer’s fault.

Agent Morgan’s expression shifted a little. He thought he had Reese. “You want to explain that to me, Reese?”

“Do I really need to? This - all of this - happened because of him! He’s-” he broke off.

“The Devil?” Agent Morgan said, flat. “Is that what you were going to say? I saw a bit of what you had in your office. Looked more National World Weekly than LA Telegraph.”

Cold shot through Reese. “I promise you, I am perfectly sane.”

“Then do you want to tell me what you really thought Morningstar was involved with? Since you’re so convinced he’s dangerous.”  
“I don’t…” Reese swallowed. “I don’t know...what it is, exactly, but he’s...look, I know people like him. He’s...hard to resist. Even I got sucked in for a while there, before I saw…”

“Is that what happened?” Agent Morgan asked, “You got sucked in? I mean...can’t blame you, he’s...compelling. So you started following him around. Just to find out why you couldn’t look away. I mean, you were lonely, you’d already been shadowing him, your marriage was over…”  
It took Reese a moment to realise what was being implied.

“What- No. No, that’s not- I’m not gay.”

“Okay.” Agent Morgan nodded. “But you weren’t just stalking _him_ , were you?” He slid a photograph across the table. It was one of the ones from Reese’s board, showing a white-haired teenager in a very short plaid skirt bending to look into the telescope at the Griffith Observatory.

“What- No. No, I’m not-” Reese spluttered off. “I happen to be-” a married man, he wanted to say, but Agent Morgan had already dragged out all _that_ dirty laundry. “I don’t- She’s sixteen years old, for God’s sake, what do you think I am?”

“I think you’re a stalker. And it’s not that great a leap from that to abduction,” Agent Morgan said steadily. “I _know_ that you followed Lucifer Morningstar to Vegas when you told your editor you were chasing a story - a story that never materialised, by the way - and that you took a leave of absence from your job a few weeks back that you told your colleagues was so you and Linda could reconnect, but actually took you all the way up to Greendale, Massachusetts, a little one-horse town that’s only really interesting for being the home of your latest obsession. So, do you want to tell me what you were ‘investigating’ in all of that, or do you want me to present all of this to a jury, and let them draw their own conclusions?”

There was an odd ringing in Reese’s ears.

“...I…” he managed. “I didn’t abduct those girls. I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.”

* * *

“I don’t believe it,” Linda said, staring through the two-way mirror.

Chloe reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “I know. _Believe_ me, I know.”

The situations hadn’t been the same - she and Dan had only been separated, had still thought there might be hope, whereas Linda seemed quite thoroughly done with her ex-husband - but finding out that the man you’d trusted enough to marry wasn’t who you’d thought he was hit hard no matter how long it had been, because it wasn’t about him, not really. It was about you, and how you’d never really known them at all, and how little faith you could put in your own judgement after finding that out.

“I mean...I don’t want to believe it.” Linda swallowed. “I can’t help thinking…if I’d seen…”

“Hey.” Chloe squeezed her shoulder gently. “It’s not...he’s not your responsibility.”

“I know. I know. I just...he always was, you know?” Linda swallowed. “I mean...I know I have a problem with...taking my work home with me, but with Reese…”  
“You don’t have to justify your relationship choices to me.”

“I know, but…” Linda shook her head. “He just- I don’t want to believe he’d do this, but…”

“But you can see how he could.”

That part was hard too. Seeing the path that led the person you’d thought you knew to become the person you couldn’t believe you’d been fool enough to trust in the first place. Suddenly, letting all the things that had seemed...not quite right, but not wrong enough to challenge...slot into place, until you knew how it had happened, and suddenly you couldn’t believe you’d ever missed it.

Linda nodded reluctantly.

“I...suppose. I mean...we’d been separated two years before this even started, but…” she bit her lip. “He always was...obsessive. About his work, usually, not…”

“He did a story on us,” Chloe offered. “I mean, on me and Lucifer, and our partnership. He-” she frowned. “He told me, in the end, that he wanted to write an expose. Prove to everyone that Lucifer was a fraud and our partnership was a dangerous joke. But then he got to know Lucifer and...he pulled the story. I guess that’s where this started. I mean, I haven’t seen everything that was in his office, but...the timeline fits.”

“It can’t just be that, though,” said a familiar British-accented voice, and Chloe looked around to see Lucifer, who had appeared behind her at some point and was staring through the two-way mirror with an odd, hawkish look.

“Why not?” Chloe asked, frowning.

“Because he came by Lux a few days before that. That’s how I knew him, remember?”

Linda’s mouth opened and closed. “But...Reese doesn’t go to nightclubs.”

“He came to mine,” Lucifer said, in a breezy tone that belied the intensity with which his eyes were still fixed on Reese.

“Okay,” Chloe said, nodding. “So, we know that was out of character. He had to have had some reason to do it.”

“I did _tell_ him I didn’t want to sleep with him,” Lucifer added, apropos of nothing. “And he denied wanting to sleep with me, which doesn’t happen often…”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Chloe lied.

Lucifer snorted. “Yes, well. You seem to break all my usual rules.” He paused, and then. “At least if he is our guilty party, Mallt should turn something up within the next few hours whether or not he decides to talk.”

Chloe shot a sideways look at him.” You’re sure about that?”

“Nothing mortal could hope to escape the Hunt, Detective,” Lucifer said grimly. “If they’re in this city to be found, Mallt will find them.”

He sounded so _certain_ of that, but Chloe was sceptical. Sniffer dogs weren’t infallible, and there were always places they couldn’t go, and covering all of LA in twenty-four hours with just the handful of dogs she’d seen in Lucifer’s apartment sounded like an impossible task to her.

“Yeah, well. We still need to know for sure if he did it or not, so…” Chloe paused. Police procedure didn’t generally hold with allowing a stalker access to the object of his obsession. Except...Except, Lucifer was the best interrogator she’d ever seen. She didn’t know how he did it. One look from him and people were saying things they’d never admit to to anyone else. He barely even had to ask questions. “Lucifer…” she said slowly. “Could...you could talk to him, couldn’t you? I mean...we’re not even technically on his case, so he wouldn’t need a lawyer before talking to you…”

“You have a point, Detective,” Lucifer said, his mouth twisting up into a vicious, predatory smirk, a flash of teeth that put her strangely in mind of some kind of big cat, waiting in the undergrowth for something small and tender to come along. “I’ll go and find Agent Morgan, shall I? I’m sure he’ll be willing to let me have a go.”

Chloe wasn’t nearly as sure about that, but...well, she hadn’t believed that Lucifer could talk half the people he had into letting him stay on as a consultant. It was worth a shot, at least.

“I...think I’ll stay here,” Linda said, still eyeing her ex-husband with an expression Chloe had never seen her wear before. 

“Okay.” Chloe couldn’t blame her for wanting distance. “Lucifer, I’ll be in with you. I know you can handle it,” she went on, when it seemed like he’d fight back. “But- If he really _did_ take Sabrina, could you hold yourself back?”

“He took Trixie too,” Lucifer reminded her. “Can you?”

Chloe paused. She’d wanted to kill Malcolm for taking her little girl. She _had_ killed Malcolm, in the end. She didn’t regret it.

“If he’s in no condition to talk, he’s in no condition to tell us where the girls are,” she said, as flatly as she could. “I can wait.”

She was trying not to think about why, about Trixie being made collateral damage in someone she’d never met’s obsession with Lucifer. She couldn’t stop thinking, if she’d chosen a different babysitter for the day, or if Sabrina had had something else to do. If she hadn’t let Lucifer into her home, hadn’t let Trixie latch onto him so hard and so fast...would she be missing at all?

It was an awful, disloyal thought - it wasn’t as though any of this was really Lucifer’s fault - but she couldn’t help but think it, all the same.

Agent Morgan was at the board, frowning up at the photographs that had been taken of Reese Getty’s own boards of research. Chloe caught sight of the words ‘Devil = Invulnerable?’ and snorted.

“...he actually believes this?”

“I don’t know.” Agent Morgan frowned up at the board. “He says he doesn’t, but if it’s a code, I don’t know what it’s for.”

“It _looks_ like he’s buying into Lucifer’s whole persona,” Chloe muttered, craning her neck to take it all in.

“Not a persona, Detective,” Lucifer said, with a rare bite in his voice.

“Well, I _know_ you’re not invulnerable,” Chloe said, nudging him.

“She shot me once,” Lucifer explained, at the look Morgan gave them. “Don’t worry, I had it coming.”

“...right.” Morgan cleared his throat. “I understand you’ve both worked with Mr Getty before?”

“He shadowed us on a case once,” Chloe said quickly, “But...Lucifer met him before that.”

“You did?” Morgan’s eyes flickered to Lucifer.

“He visited my club once,” Lucifer said, with a tight smile that everything in Chloe recoiled from. “Few days before he came to write his story on what a dangerous joke our partnership was.”

“So he has a grudge against you,” Morgan surmised, glancing up at the board. “I think we can mostly rule out a sexual motive. Not saying it’s impossible, but sexually-motivated stalkers tend to try and get closer than this. This guy’s been subcontracting.”

“Subcontracting?” Chloe repeated.

Morgan nodded, and looked at Lucifer. “There been an unusual number of reporters hanging around you lately?”

“Not that I’ve noticed...but my spawn has had some trouble with them.”

Morgan gave him an odd look. “Trouble how?”

Chloe winced. The full story of Sabrina’s one ill-advised night out with her cousin and her set had been plastered all over every tabloid in LA, with no shortage of unfortunate pictures…for all of one morning before Lucifer dragged himself out of bed and came down on the people responsible like the fist of an angry god. An analogy Lucifer would probably hate, giving his opinion on the subject. He hadn’t managed to scour the pictures from the face of the Earth entirely - the internet was, unfortunately, forever - but by the sound of it more than one career had been ruined before he’d been finished with them.

Morgan listened to a brief summary of this with an expression wavering between disapproval and satisfaction. 

“...I see. So, lot of grudges there. Think any of them might have been involved?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I thought your case hinged on Sabrina being willing to open the door to them? The witchling has developed a certain aversion to cameras since that incident…”  
“Would they have brought cameras to an abduction?”

Lucifer paused. “Not unless they wanted to put it on Youtube. Which I am perfectly prepared to imagine of them, but since no video has yet materialised…”

“So let’s assume she didn’t know who they were when she opened the door. They might’ve posed as some sort of maintenance worker…”

“They might,” Lucifer allowed. “I’ll ask, shall I?”

“You’ll _what_?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I _am_ the object of his obsession. Or one of them. If you were to let me talk to him…”

“He isn’t going to give her up just for that,” Morgan warned. “And I don’t know how the LAPD does things, but in my office, we’re not in the business of giving kidnappers what they want.”

“Just letting them waste valuable time when we don’t have very much of it to waste? His lawyer should be here soon, and while I can usually get around those, I’m given to understand you can’t.”

“He’s…” Chloe swallowed. “I know you don’t want us involved with your investigation,” she said carefully, “But Lucifer is the best interrogator I’ve ever seen. And how Getty behaves towards him should at least give you a bit more for your profile, shouldn’t it? If he mentions what this grudge was…”

“You realise you’ll be putting yourself in danger, don’t you?” Morgan asked.

Lucifer snorted. “I sincerely doubt it.”

“Mr Morningstar, this man may have been responsible for your daughter’s abduction…”

“Yes. But he also believes I’m invulnerable, which would make any attempt to attack me rather pointless, now, wouldn’t it?”

“ _Or_ it means he’ll feel he can go a lot further before doing real damage.”   
“He’s unarmed,” Lucifer reminded Morgan. “I can at least get him talking. And I’m plausibly deniable. Just a concerned parent making a plea for my daughter’s return.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Plausibly deniable...how, exactly? You know torture doesn’t get accurate information, and I can’t allow a subject to be brutalised in custody-”

“ _Believe_ me, I’m aware. To get accurate information from torture takes far longer than just twenty-four hours, and we don’t have the resources for it anyway.”

Morgan wasn’t the only one eyeing Lucifer warily now. Where did he come up with this stuff, Chloe wondered. And how had he learnt enough to speak of it this confidently. She was, abruptly, very relieved that Dan had taken off to start asking questions among some of Malcolm’s old associates, the sorts of people who might do something like this professionally, just in case Reese Getty’s alibi checked out after all. Dan would have pressed for answers. Chloe probably should’ve. Except- Except, she didn’t need to know all the horrors of Lucifer’s past to know him. And if she asked, she’d only get some story about Hell anyway.

“You’ve done it before,” Lucifer said in a low voice. “And maybe you regretted it, but it got you results. I am not the victim here. And if I do end up losing control...that’s hardly the Bureau’s fault, now, is it?”

Morgan drew in a breath. “I’m going in with you,” he said shortly. “You show even the slightest sign you’re going to go off on him and endanger the investigation, you’re out.”

“I won’t,” Lucifer said, in a disgustingly reasonable tone of voice. It was almost reassuring. He only ever sounded like that when he thought he’d won.

* * *

Morgan had no idea why he’d agreed to this except, irritatingly, that Morningstar hadn’t been wrong. If the victim was willing, putting a stalker in the same room with the object of their obsession was one way of getting information out of them. That didn’t mean he liked it.

“I told you, I’m not saying anything without-” Getty started as they came in, but he fell silent at the sight of Lucifer.

“Afternoon, Reesy,” Lucifer said with a brittle brightness like the flash of a knife in a dark alley, dropping into one of the interrogation room chairs with careless ease.

“You,” Getty choked out, staring at Lucifer in what looked, for a moment, like genuine terror. 

“Me.” Lucifer’s smile widened. If you could call that a smile. All his teeth were showing, at least, which made it close enough that there wasn’t another easy word for that expression. “Expecting someone else?”  
“You- You can’t be here,” Getty managed. “Agent-”

“Why can’t he?” Morgan asked, leaning forward. “It’s a free country. You don’t need a lawyer to talk to _him_.”

“He’s an LAPD consultant!”

“But not one working this case,” Morgan said evenly. “He’s just here as a concerned parent.” Which meant that there was only so much Morgan could do to steer this, but Detective Decker had vouched for Morningstar’s skills as an interrogator, and he’d seen their closure rate, and just how many of them hinged on completely unexpected, detailed confessions that showed them where to look for hard evidence. He could only hope the emotional element wouldn’t make Morningstar too sloppy.

Getty snorted. “Concerned. Have you _seen_ what he’s let that girl get away with?”

Morgan could almost _feel_ Morningstar beside him tensing to spring. With another witness, he might’ve put a hand on his arm to restrain him, but Morningstar exuded an air of ‘look, but don’t touch’ strong enough to put even him off.

“Remarkably concerned reaction, from a man I didn’t know had ever even _met_ the hellspawn,” Morningstar said acidly. “Though by the sound of it you’ve seen rather a lot of her lately. What’s wrong, your wife get too old for you?”

“What- No-! _God_ , no…”

“Let’s leave my father out of this,” Morningstar said, and Morgan blinked at him. He was still having trouble working out whether Morningstar was genuinely delusional or just a very, very dedicated character actor. “So, if that wasn’t it, what did you want with her?”

“I…” Getty was avoiding Morningstar’s eyes. “Nothing! I already said I didn’t kidnap her-”

“But you _have_ been stalking her.” Morningstar’s eyes were wintry. “Or paying other people to do so. Is there so little actual news to report in this city that you had to resort to chasing heiresses? Or...was there a less professional motive in play.”

“Less- I don’t _care_ about your daughter, Morningstar!”

“Your office wall would suggest otherwise.” Lucifer’s mouth twisted. “Not as much on the Detective’s urchin, but there were a few snaps in there too. I might keep a few myself. Were you actually looking through their apartment window to get this one?”

He produced his phone from out of his pocket and slid it across the table. He’d brought up a picture on the screen - him, Detective Decker, and the two kidnapped girls, sprawled out on the floor around a game board, an incongruously domestic picture.

Getty looked down at the phone. His throat worked through a swallow. “That’s...I mean...I wasn’t investigating _her_.”

“You were investigating me.” Morningstar raised an eyebrow. “While I do agree that I am entirely newsworthy all on my own, Reese, that wouldn’t account for that sneaky little getaway back to Massachusetts you and your wife were allegedly taking…”

Getty was still avoiding Morningstar’s eyes, but his gaze kept flicking back to Morningstar’s face, as if unable to stay away.

Morningstar’s lips curled back from his teeth. “What were you looking for?” he asked, low and intimate. “Tell me. What is it that you _truly_ desire?”

It was like watching a magic trick. Or maybe a hypnotist would be a better analogy. Morgan had wondered why it was Gillis, who was one of his better juniors here in LA, had ended up spilling so much to a civilian, and one of the people they were supposed to be keeping this sort of information from. He found he didn’t wonder anymore.

Getty’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, his eyes wide and staring.

“What-” he managed. “What’re you doing to me?”

Morningstar’s eyes glinted. “Oh, you’re a _complicated_ one, aren’t you, Reese?” he nearly purred. “Strong. Go on. Tell me. The only way to overcome a temptation is to yield to it, you know…”

Oscar Wilde, really? Not that it didn’t fit with Morningstar’s whole persona, but even Morgan, whose old team had had a quote for everything, thought it was a bit much for an interrogation room.

“I-” Getty spluttered, and then it all came rushing out of him in a torrent. “I just want Linda to love me!”

Morningstar froze, his brain visibly screeching to a halt. “You’re still in love with your ex?” he said, sounding quite baffled by the idea. “What about your wife?”

According to public record, Reese Getty hadn’t remarried. And it didn’t seem like he was going to, given he was still letting his colleagues believe he was married to Doctor Martin.

“She is my wife,”Getty stuttered out, “She’ll always be my wife.”

Morgan believed him. It fit with everything else he’d observed about Getty. But that still didn’t explain why he’d stalked Morningstar or his daughter, or why he’d abducted those two girls.

Morningstar’s brain was apparently still rebooting. “So...hold on, that sleazy piece of garbage, that…” he let out a faint, incredulous bark of laughter, “That was me?”

“You’re sleeping with your therapist?” Morgan couldn’t help asking.

Morningstar blinked at him. “Not any more, no. Apparently it’s a violation of her professional ethics or some such, but…”

“I don’t believe it,” Getty said shakily. “I mean...I believe she wouldn’t normally, but...the way she looks at you.” He shook his head. “It was your fault,” he said, low and vicious. “Linda wouldn’t....it was your fault. All of this...it’s your fault. You made her-”

“I never _make_ any of you do _anything_ !” Morningstar snapped back, real fury in his voice now. “What is it with you humans? Can’t _any_ of you accept responsibility for your own sins?”

Even now, Morgan couldn’t tell if this was just part of the performance or not. Morningstar was good, he was _terrifyingly_ good, and it made it hard to get a clear read on him.

“That’s not true!” Getty snapped. “You trick us into sin, damnation-”

Morningstar looked back at him, nearly vibrating with anger and yet perfectly still. “I have a story for you, _reporter_ ,” he said, so soft that even Morgan had to strain his ears to hear it. “One I’ve never told a human soul before. I take _no_ part in who goes to Hell.”

“Then who does?” Getty nearly spat. He seemed almost to have forgotten Morgan was there at all.

“You humans.” Morningstar’s voice would have almost sounded cheerful, to someone who couldn’t see the fury banked in every line of his face and body now. “You send _yourselves_ , driven down by your own guilt. Forcing yourselves to relive your sins over and over...and, the best part?” Morningstar’s voice was whisper-soft and Morgan could see a hint of a smile as he paused. “The doors aren’t locked. You could leave anytime. It says something that no-one ever does, doesn’t it?”

A chill went down Morgan’s spine. It was nonsense, Morningstar was either a masterful actor or genuinely deluded, but this wasn’t-

“No,” Getty said shakily. “No. _You’re_ to blame-”

“I wonder,” Morningstar went on, remorseless, “How much weight will this sin have on you? It always varies, you see. I’ve seen men go almost untouched by the most hideous crimes, but destroy themselves with guilt for forgetting an anniversary that the rest of the world never even thought to notice.”

That was true enough. Morgan remembered a few cases like that. They’d always left him staring at the wall for a few hours after he got home. Maybe that was how Morningstar knew it too - he was a police consultant, and he and Detective Decker’s record spoke for itself. That was probably it. Perfectly sensible. So why was there that familiar tickle at the back of Morgan’s mind telling him that he’d barely scratched the surface here?

Getty twitched at that, though. “What do you mean, crimes? This- This isn’t _my_ fault!”

“Isn’t it?” Morningstar pressed. “Whose is it, then? Mine again, I suppose?”

“Yes!” Getty nearly snarled, his hands pressed flat against the table. “You ruined my life! You drove me to do things I never would’ve done-”

“Yes, you’ve said that.” Morningstar’s face was masklike, almost pleasant. Only his eyes broke the picture of perfect casualness, but those...maybe it was just the light in here, but for a moment they almost seemed to shine red in the gloom. “One question - why take Beatrice?”

Getty blinked. “Who?”

“Beatrice Decker. Or….is it Espinoza? I do have trouble keeping up with that. I mean, you’d think it would be logical to pass on the mother’s name, since that’s the one parent you can always be sure of…”

“It’s Espinoza,” Morgan said flatly.

“Is it? Right. You _do_ remember her? About so tall? Dark hair? Distressing enthusiasm for hugs…is any of this sounding familiar?”

Getty looked almost physically ill now. “No. No, it doesn’t. Because _I didn’t take her_. I’d like my lawyer now.”

Morningstar was not one of those men who raged and stormed and shouted when he was furious, but it radiated off him in waves as he stalked out of the interrogation room, to find Detective Decker and a shell-shocked Doctor Martin on the other side of the two-way mirror.

“Well,” he said acidly, before anyone else had a chance to open their mouths, “That was even less use than I was expecting. Reese is _creepy_ , certainly, and we all know I’m an expert there, but…”

“He’s definitely hiding something,” Morgan interrupted. “And I’m still not convinced that whatever these ‘things he never would’ve done’ aren’t to do with this somehow.”

“Yeah, but…” Detective Decker cast a sideways look at Getty through the glass. “We got the news just before you came out. His alibi checks out.”

Morningstar blinked. “I thought he’d been locked in his office all day?”

“He was,” Detective Decker replied, shrugging. “But a colleague ran into him in the bathroom about twenty minutes before the abductions. No way he’d have time to get all the way across town in that long. He could still have hired a third party, but…”

“We can still hold him on the stalking,” Morgan said quickly. “Does he have a lawyer on retainer?”

“No...I mean…” Doctor Martin coughed. “He didn’t when we were together. The Telegraph got sued, not him, when he wrote something someone didn’t like. That might’ve changed since, though…”

Morgan nodded. “Well, until the lawyer gets here, we can’t talk to him, and he probably isn’t going to be saying anything. But I think we’ve got a pretty solid case on stalking. Smart counsel would be to plead guilty on that but avoid the kidnap charge, and we don’t have anything solid to tie him to that. Mr Morningstar, have you or Sabrina ever noticed-”

He was half-turning now to look at Morningstar, half-expecting another biting, unhelpful response, but Morningstar wasn’t there.

* * *

He was calling Amenadiel before he was even out of the precinct. It took three whole rings before he picked up - where was he? Had Mum already got to him? Lucifer didn’t believe she’d hurt Amenadiel, not on purpose, but Amenadiel wanted to believe the best of her, and that was where she’d catch him.

“Have you found Her?” he asked, as soon as Amenadiel answered, not even giving him the chance to say hello.

“Yes…” Amenadiel replied, his voice tinny through the speakers. “But...Luci, we don’t know that She’s responsible. It might be this Reese person…”

“It isn’t. Where is She?”

He heard Amenadiel sigh at the other end of the line. “My apartment. I- I called Her after you left Linda’s, and told Her you wanted to meet. She didn’t seem worried about anything. I really don’t think She did this, Luci.”

“I’ll believe that when I hear it,” Lucifer retorted. And when he heard it from someone other than Mum, who was so deceitful She couldn’t ask for water when She was thirsty, and had a history of this sort of scheming besides. He’d almost been willing to put the worst of it behind him, when he’d come back from Greendale. Mum, at least, had only nudged along feelings he already had. Dad had been the one to set him up in the first place. He’d just needed to know what She was planning, and he’d had a plan in hand for that, and to push the Detective away, but with Candy still in Vegas and Sabrina coming along, that had gone pretty comprehensively off the rails. He’d still had some plans in mind...but then Mum had met Sabrina, and that had been the end of that.

He still didn’t know why she’d go for the urchin. It wasn’t as if Mum couldn’t just take Sabrina and leave Beatrice to her own devices. And while Mum might consider Sabrina’s mere _existence_ affront enough to be worth murdering Her own granddaughter over it, she never seemed to have noticed the urchin at all. There was no logical reason for Her to take Beatrice at all, and that was worrying, because Lucifer...he knew what to do, if his Mother was behind this. But he had other enemies, or Sabrina did, and some of them he’d never even heard of. He’d never even _met_ Faustus Blackwood, and even if the reports out of Greendale made it sound as though he’d lost his mind at some point and was also now fifteen years older than he should be due to shenanigans involving pocket dimensions that Lucifer still wasn’t quite sure of the details of, he couldn’t imagine any of that would have made him less vindictive.

If anyone was going to know about Blackwood’s movements, it was the Spellmans. They were also, not coincidentally, the last people Lucifer wanted to talk to until this disaster was done with. Zelda would be biting enough, but he couldn’t- he _couldn’t_ face Hilda, and tell her that the niece she’d trusted him with almost from the first had been snatched out of- maybe not his own home, but the Deckers’ apartment was almost the next-best...next-worst thing. And he could do _nothing_ about it, because he hadn’t been there. Again. 

Being absent for most of the most traumatic events of his daughter’s life was a definite pattern now, and Lucifer couldn’t say he cared for it. 

He broke every traffic law on the books getting to Amenadiel’s apartment, and even that didn’t get him there quickly enough, not in LA traffic and getting on towards rush hour.

Mum’s car was already outside Amenadiel’s building when he got there, which could only be a good sign. If She was here, she wasn’t off murdering the spawn. Either of them. Mum always had been the hands-on type, after all.

She was already there waiting when he reached Amenadiel’s apartment. She turned to face him as he came in, and the look of smug satisfaction on Her face was almost more than he could bear.

“Well,” She said, “I wasn’t expecting you to come around quite this quickly.”

Lucifer blinked. “... _what_?” he managed, his voice sounding thin and strangled even to his own ears. “Amenadiel, what did you-”

“I told Her this was about Sabrina,” Amenadiel put in. “Luci, are you sure…”

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure! I’ve been sure since I found out!”

“Since you found out what?” Mum demanded. “Has she- I mean, if you’re here, I assume you’ve seen her for what she really is-”

“‘What she really is’?” Lucifer repeated. “She’s _really_ a sixteen-year-old witchling who’s far too fond of horror movies and presumably doesn’t want to die before she gets to be seventeen! What- What exactly did you think you were proving?”

“What I always meant to prove! That that- _abortion_ doesn’t deserve your attention, or your time! I need you to understand that she is never going to show you the loyalty or the obedience you deserve from her, that she is never going to choose you over that rabble of witches she calls her family-!”

“ _I don’t want her to!_ ”

 _That_ cut his Mother off in mid-flow.

“...you don’t?”

“No!” He could think of almost nothing he wanted _less_ than obedience, duty, blind loyalty. Not from his daughter. Not from Sabrina, who had never obeyed blindly in her whole life, and whom he’d never ask to, when to do so would break her of everything she was. “Why would I- This isn’t _like_ the Detective, Mum! I don’t- Sabrina doesn’t owe me anything.”

Chloe didn’t either, but...there was a reciprocity there, or he thought there was. If she’d betrayed him on that stand...maybe it wouldn’t have been enough to make him go along with Mum’s plan, but it would’ve changed things between them. How, he didn’t know, but he knew it would. If Sabrina betrayed him...if she sold him out to save her aunts or her cousin or her friends back in Massachusetts, or just because she happened to get a better offer...it would hurt. But it would change nothing. She was his daughter. She could stab him in the back with Azrael’s blade and he’d still love her.

“She owes you _everything_ !” his Mother fumed, throwing up her hands in exasperation, as if he were a child stubbornly insisting that two and two made three. “A debt she will never even think to repay! I realise you are….attached...to the little mongrel for some reason, but what do you imagine you can get from her that you can’t from your family? Your _real_ family. The sooner she’s gone, the sooner we can all return to the Silver City, just as we planned.” She reached up to try and catch his face in her hands, but Lucifer stepped back, almost before he knew what he was doing.

He’d known this was coming. He’d heard a rant like this before, but-

Somehow it was different, this time.

“So you took her,” he said hollowly. “Mum-” He wouldn’t beg. He couldn’t. Begging had never worked before. When he’d hung from his wrists in the Square of the Four Winds, he’d begged. It had not availed him then. It would not now. “If you’ve hurt her,” he said instead. “I _will_ kill you.”

He didn’t want to. But he would. Maybe it really was easier the second time - you never knew until you tried.

Mum’s eyes widened. “No. No- You wouldn’t. She’s mortal, she’ll be dead in a few decades anyway, would you really kill your own _mother-_ ”

“Not unless you _make_ me, Mum!” he hated the note of pleading that slid into his voice just then. “Just give her back, and we can-” can forget all about this, he was going to say, but of course they couldn’t. “And it doesn’t need to come to that.”

“Give her back?” Mum repeated, raising an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

Lucifer froze.

No.

Oh, _Dad_ , no.

“Mum,” he said, and now his voice was shaking. “If you’ve- If you’ve killed Sabrina, I swear-”

“Killed her?” His Mother blinked at him. “I’m not going to kill her!”

Lucifer stared.

“...you aren’t?” Amenadiel asked, sounding...so relieved. Lucifer didn’t think he’d ever heard his brother sound that desperately relieved about _anything_.

Mum frowned at them both. “No, of course not,” she said, sounding honestly confused, and looked Lucifer in the eye. “You are.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to tell how long they had been down here in the dark. Long enough to grow hungry, at least. It had been coming up towards lunchtime when they’d been taken. Sabrina had been just thinking about making them some sandwiches when she’d found _Cinderella_ on television and paused for a second to watch it. She really wished, now, that she hadn’t waited. A sandwich might not have made much difference to her, but Trixie’s stomach was growling. She was trying not to show it - they both knew there were bigger things to worry about - but Sabrina could hear it, all the same.

“Do you think they’re gonna get here soon?” Trixie asked, somewhere in the dark, and her voice sounded smaller and more scared now than it had before.

“I don’t know,” Sabrina admitted. “But they _will_ get here.”

Lucifer was...well, _Lucifer_ , after all. The Dark Lord couldn’t stand against him, had only lasted as long as he did by using Lucifer’s name and reputation for his own ends. Even if these were the same hunters who’d claimed to be angels - and now she’d met Amenadiel, even only briefly, Sabrina had been starting to have some doubts on that score - everything Sabrina had ever read, and Lucifer himself, agreed that Lucifer had been first among those.

He would come. He had to, because Sabrina was all out of ideas. They were in some sort of crawlspace or cellar, she thought, or maybe a large crate, because she couldn’t find a way out no matter how carefully she felt for one as best she could, when every moment sent another low thrum of pain through her from the wound in her side. And she couldn’t touch her magic. She’d tried. The pain- It got in the way, but it was more than that. She’d cast through pain before. Not this _much_ pain, but she’d had an arrow go clean through her at the desecrated church, the last time the witch-hunters had come, and it hadn’t stopped her then.

Nothing had stopped her then. She wished she had some of that power to call on now. But she didn’t. She was a dry well. Useless. She couldn’t even get them out of this stupid box.

Which left her here, waiting for rescue, as if she was back in the Witch’s Cell at the Academy, dependent on Salem to come and find her before she really did go mad from the voices in the dark. But Salem wasn’t coming now. And it wasn’t just herself she had to worry about.

It was as if that thought had summoned him.

There was a dragging, rattling noise from above, and Sabrina flinched back involuntarily as the whole low ceiling was lifted away, letting in a blaze of light, too bright to make out any details of the room above. Only the shadow of a woman, standing over them, even as Sabrina and Trixie drew together like mice huddling before the cat, before she stepped down into the crawlspace, folding up as the ceiling closed in again.

No wonder Sabrina hadn’t been able to feel for a trapdoor. She heard heavy bolts thudding into place overhead. So much for that line of escape.

A match flared, doing nothing to the darkness but making it dirty, and Trixie’s small, clammy hand found hers.

The firelight illuminated the face of a young woman, as golden-blonde as Sabrina had been before she signed Baphomet’s Book of the Beast.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, witch?” she said softly. “The light of righteousness. Even being here, on holy ground, must be like stepping on coals for you.”

“Oh, so we’re in a church?” Sabrina managed, raising an eyebrow and managing somehow to smirk. “Thanks, I was wondering. Who’re you supposed to be?”

“My name is Sarandiel,” the woman said. “And I have _nothing_ to say to you, _witch-_ ”

“ _You_ started it!” Sabrina snapped back, “Trixie and I were fine down here on our own, weren’t we, Trixie?”

Trixie screwed up her face. “...better than having one of _them_ down here.”

Sarandiel - even the name sounded ridiculous to Sabrina - shook her head sadly.

“Could you not be satisfied with spreading your corruption only to your own classmates?” she asked, in a tone eerily like the one Jerathmiel had used when preaching to his captives in the desecrated church. “This child was an innocent before you and your abominations entered her life! And now-! The stain of Lucifer has blackened her soul-”

“Lucifer isn’t a stain!” Trixie protested, too loudly, and too fiercely for safety. “He’s my _friend_!”

If only she’d known to keep her mouth shut- But how could she? Lucifer, to Trixie, had never meant much more than a cartoon figure with horns and red eyes, and then her mother’s friend, somewhere between a cool uncle and a third, on-and-off-again parent.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Sabrina said quickly, “Come on, she’s what, ten? How’s she supposed to have been corrupted? She doesn’t _understand-_ ”

Trixie kicked her, hard. “Yes, I do!” She glared up at Sarandiel, dauntless, a mouse in front of a lion, and Sabrina would have been so proud of her just then if it weren’t so certain that Trixie had just signed her own death warrant. “You just keep making up stories about him,” Trixie added, scowling. “But he’s not _like_ that! He’s nice! And- and even when he’s not, he isn’t a _stain_.”

“Trix,” Sabrina hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “Trix, don’t bother-”

“No! They’re _lying_!”

“Yes,” Sabrina agreed. Or mistaken, at any rate, though it was the same mistake the whole Church of Night had made, just from a different angle. “But they’ll kill you if you say so. It’s how they _work_.” 

They might kill you even if you said what they wanted, and certainly they’d spared no-one at the desecrated church, but Trixie was entirely human, and only a kid besides. She stood a better chance than anyone else of getting out of this alive, if only she would keep her mouth shut.

“Mom always says you can’t give bullies what they want,” Trixie said stubbornly.

Under literally any other circumstance, Sabrina would’ve agreed with her. But she had the luxury of remaining defiant to the end, because it wouldn’t make any difference. She’d been dead, without rescue, from the moment she’d opened that door. Trixie- Trixie could still have her whole life ahead of her. 

And at what point, Sabrina wondered, had she given up, even just in her own head, on the possibility of rescue?

Probably from the moment she’d reached for her magic, and found it wasn’t there, and remembered that all her usual rescuers were on the other side of the country. Lucifer could have called them, she supposed, but how soon could they reasonably get here? And just how long did she and Trixie have?

“She’s...under my evil influence?” she tried, looking up at Sarandiel and trying to avoid another hard kick to the knee. “And...y’know, you kidnapping us didn’t exactly help matters if you want to be seen as the good guys in this equation. If you just let her go home-”

“Home?” Sarandiel repeated, “To a father who consorts with demons and her Devil’s concubine of a mother?”

Sabrina forced a smile, showing teeth. “ _Please_ , call Chloe that to her face. I dare you.”

“Yeah,” Trixie agreed, very obviously trying to sound braver than she felt. “She has a gun, you know.”

Sarandiel shook her head, slow and ponderous. “You really have no shame, do you?” she said, in pure disgust. “To bring a child into your depravities…” she let out a long, dragging breath. “Still, the Lord is merciful…”

“Where-” Where have you been, Sabrina wanted to say. Except-

Earl Johnson had been delusional, and from what little she’d seen of him after he’d regained his memory, his kindness had been all his own. That didn’t mean it hadn’t mattered. From what little Lucifer had said on the subject of the False God, her real grandfather would never have said half of what God Johnson had, and certainly wouldn’t have meant it.

But she couldn’t forget it, either. _Nothing exists in this world that wasn’t meant to_ , he had told her. And that had included her. Of course, by the same logic it _also_ included people like Sarandiel, so she wasn’t inclined to take it as gospel.

“The Lord is merciful,” Sarandiel repeated. “He would not condemn a child, even the basest sinner, to the Pit.”

Sabrina’s stomach lurched. In the flickering light from the match, she glanced across at Trixie, and saw her own fear reflected in her eyes.

* * *

For a moment, Amenadiel thought he must have misheard Her. Then, he merely wished he had.

He wasn’t- No matter what Lucifer may have accused him of, in all the fights they’d had since he came back from Massachusetts with Amenadiel’s teenage niece in tow, Amenadiel wasn’t blind to their Mother’s failings. He knew how little She thought of the lives of humans - any humans, even those She had come, after Her fashion, to like and approve of - and he knew that, on some level, no part of this world seemed quite _real_ to Her. He hardly felt he had the space to judge Her for that, after Malcolm, and how much harm he himself had caused, making the same mistakes.

He’d known that She was willing to kill Sabrina Herself, even if he’d managed to talk Her out of it, but _this-_

This wasn’t what he’d meant.

Lucifer’s face was paper-white, his lips drawing back from his teeth like something between the awful grin of rigor mortis and the way all creatures Father had made but humans regarded the baring of teeth as a threat display.

“...what?”

It was barely more than a whisper, but in the silent apartment it felt as loud as a scream.

Mom just shrugged, unrepentant. “I wasn’t going to just spring it on you! I had a plan! She would betray you, and you would see her for what she really was and take care of the problem.”

“Well, now you know that isn’t going to happen, you can give her back now, before I decide to get Azrael’s blade out of storage!”

“Luci-” Amenadiel started, with no idea how he was going to finish. He wouldn’t- He didn’t think his brother _could_ mean it, but-

He’d killed Uriel. Amenadiel didn’t know _what_ he’d do, after that.

Mom snorted. “ _That_ would be difficult to arrange, since I don’t have it.”

Amenadiel could see Lucifer’s brain screech to a halt.

“...you don’t?”

“Then who does?” Amenadiel asked, trying to force this situation back into being something approaching reasonable.

Mom glared at him. “How should I know! It’s not as though I keep track of the little beast! And why do you care? If we can only get your brother to show us where he hid the Flaming Sword, I can drown the whole miserable pack of them and _finally_ clear this up once and for all.”

“...you’re going to drown them? _All_ of them?”

It took Amenadiel to realise that the words had come from him.

“Yes, all of them! I don’t know how I failed to take care of them all the first time-”

Lucifer and Amenadiel shared a look.

“...what about Daniel?” Lucifer probed. “I mean, little as I understand your taste…”

Mom made a contemptuous noise in Her throat. “What _about_ Daniel? _He_ certainly isn’t one of those revolting mongrels…”

“...you mean there are others?”

Amenadiel had thought all the Nephilim died in the flood. By the look on his face, so had Lucifer.

“...there can’t have been,” Lucifer said, frowning. “I had what felt like half of Mesopotamia flooding in downstairs.”

Amenadiel paused. “...there were a lot of grigori down here,” he said grudgingly. “And I don’t think there were many of them that didn’t have at least one mortal partner. It’s why Father forbade us from mixing with humans in the first place. But after this many centuries intermarrying with other humans…if there are nephilim still on Earth, other than Sabrina...they’re no real danger to anyone.”

“Or no more than any other human, anyway,” Lucifer agreed, dry. “But- Mum, what do You _mean_ , You don’t have her?”

“I _mean_ exactly what I said!” Mom retorted. “Clearly it didn’t need any prodding from me for her to to betray you-”

“But You intended to prod her anyway,” Amenadiel said wearily, already knowing the answer. “Mom...I told You, You can’t _do_ this!”

“Do what, exactly?” Mom demanded. “Show your brother what a mistake he’s made in trusting this-”

“She’s my niece and Your granddaughter! Aren’t You the one who keeps talking about keeping our family together?”

Truthfully, Amenadiel could have done without a reunion with the rest of the family. He didn’t want Michael or Gabriel or, Father forbid, _Raphael_ to see him as he was now. Raphael would probably just make a joke of it, but the others...he didn’t want to imagine what Michael would say, if he knew just how far Amenadiel had fallen now.

Lucifer might be unbearable, but he wasn’t disappointed in Amenadiel, at least. Perhaps the only sibling he could really say that of, now.

“That _thing_ is not my family!”

This time, Amenadiel actually had to physically interpose himself between his Mother and Lucifer, as Lucifer lunged forwards, only to come up hard against Amenadiel’s shoulder.

“Lucifer! Calm down! You heard her, she didn’t take Sabrina-”

“And I’m supposed to believe that, am I?” Lucifer spat.

“Yes!” Amenadiel shoved him back, “Look, Mom...would Mom lie about this? I mean...She told you about trying to blow up Chloe. And about trying to destroy Lux. Why would She lie about this, after all that? She doesn’t- It isn’t anything she feels the need to hide. I mean, She just _told_ you She was going to set you up to-”

Hellfire flashed in Lucifer’s eyes.

“-to _kill_ your own daughter. Do you really think She’d admit to that, but then lie about having just abducted her?”

Lucifer drew in a deep, shuddering breath. His fingers worked spasmodically at his side, as if thumbing a nonexistent coin. 

“Chloe said the police had a suspect?” Amenadiel prodded. “Is there any chance he might be guilty?”

Lucifer snorted. “What, one half-cut reporter with a mild case of religious mania? Against a witch strong enough to defeat one of the most powerful demons in Hell and give Lilith something to worry about? She’d be embarrassed you needed to ask.”

If she was anything like Lucifer, that was probably true. Amenadiel didn’t know. He’d met her once, and all he’d seen then was a skinny girl with his brother’s eyes, trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t terrified. It was hard to imagine her doing half of what Lucifer claimed she was capable of.

“Then if not Mom, who does have a grudge against her? Or you? There has to be someone else-”  
Lucifer froze. His face twisted.

“ _Blackwood_ ,” he hissed.

Amenadiel had no idea who this ‘Blackwood’ person was, but so long as Lucifer was pointed at someone else, Mom was safe. If she really was innocent. If he hadn’t just sacrificed his niece to save his mother. Father help him, Amenadiel hoped he was right.

“It hardly matters,” Mom said, with a sniff. “She _will_ turn on you, sooner or later.”

Lucifer growled. “If she does, Mum, I _think_ I can deal with it without resorting to filicide, thanks.”

“Who is this Blackwood person, again?” Amenadiel asked, before Mom could reply and possibly drive Lucifer to do something he’d...that Amenadiel hoped he would regret. “You haven’t mentioned him before.”  
“I didn’t _know_ about him before! And if Ambrose had just let Maze and Prudence deal with him in Scotland, we might not _be_ in this mess-”

Amenadiel wasn’t altogether sure who Ambrose and Prudence were either. Not that that was uncommon with Lucifer’s social whirl, but it did only add to the feeling of having started watching a soap opera in the middle of a serious plotline with no idea who the characters were or what everyone was so upset about.

“Maze knows?” he asked, latching into the one name he recognised. “Can she help?”

“I don’t know.” Lucifer was glowering now. “But it looks like I’ll have to ask, since she’s the only one of us who might know anything about where Blackwood might be hiding.”

Amenadiel paused, and then, grudgingly. “And...the witches?”

He thought he might disapprove of witches. Father did, or so he’d always thought - it was hard to get a clear idea of what Father approved or disapproved of, but Lucifer had taught witches how to break all the laws that they’d all painstakingly worked out, in all those subjective millennia - though of course, time had not yet existed - before Dad had brought the universe into being. There was no way even Dad could _possibly_ approve of that. And certainly it was vanishingly rare for a witch to turn up in the Silver City. Amenadiel had never actually talked to one - angels didn’t, by and large, except for Uriel and his aides, who’d found themselves saddled with the job of welcoming the virtuous dead to Heaven after Gabriel got taken off the job for one practical joke too many - but you heard stories.

By the look on Lucifer’s face, he wasn’t fond of the idea of contacting these witches either. Amenadiel wasn’t sure still if that was a point in their favour or against it. 

“...I should probably call them,” Lucifer admitted, slow and grudging, like pulling teeth or eating a particularly hard and sticky toffee. “They have to be beginning to suspect something by now - the witchling is particular about keeping her relatives informed…” he grimaced. “They’ve probably decided she just found out that I’m planning to bring about the end of the world after all…”

Amenadiel frowned. True, there was...something...about that. 

“You’d need Azrael around for that,” he reminded Lucifer.

“And the other three, and Dad would probably have to get involved _somehow_ ,” Lucifer agreed. “Michael _definitely_ would. So it’s a good thing I’m not planning on it, isn’t it?”

“Certainly not until we have the Flaming Sword,” Mom agreed. Amenadiel almost jumped. He’d almost forgotten she was there. She was watching the two of them with a shrewd little smile hovering about her lips.

“I’m not _giving_ you the Flaming Sword, Mum!” Lucifer snapped. “And if you really didn’t have anything to do with it, _this-_ ” he gestured around at Amenadiel’s apartment. “Is a waste of all our time! _Mine_ , most pressingly! And Sabrina’s, which is running out as we speak!”

“I know, Lucifer!” Amenadiel reminded him. “Look- Call Maze. Maybe she’ll be able to tell you about this Blackwood person. Where is she, anyway?”

“Hunting down his followers,” Lucifer said moodily, producing his phone from an inside pocket. “And- Mum.” He paused, as Mom met his eyes, her sly little smile widening. “I really do hope you weren’t behind this.”

So did Amenadiel. So why was he so certain, now, that he’d been wrong?

* * *

There weren’t as many Judas Boys left now as there had been when Maze had accepted this commission - from Prudence, using the remains of Father Blackwood’s estate in Greendale to pay to see his ideas wiped from the face of the Earth. 

And, unlike with most bounties, this time she had permission to kill them.

She’d hunted this one to Nevada. To Vegas, in fact. A bright, gaudy, extravagant city...it reminded her a little of Pandaemonium. The climate, for one thing. And the architecture. A little echo of what seemed like everything mankind had ever built, cheek-by-jowl on one street. She had thought herself mostly past homesickness by now, but then she had come here, and remembered.

This particular Judas Boy had not been of very much use. Not because he had been new and thus privy to far less information than the others, but because Blackwood himself had ceased to make much sense even to his disciples ever since he had secluded himself in his pocket dimension, and his return had not improved matters.

Not that it was Maze’s business, exactly, but whatever was in the egg that Ambrose had brought back from Loch Ness, it was apparently dangerous. And the notion of the world being devoured by eldritch terrors from beyond the universe sounded like it would get in the way of Maze’s life, so...here she was.

She was still disposing of the body, and contemplating staying a few extra days in the city, just to soak in the atmosphere, when the call came in.

She answered it almost absent-mindedly, expecting Chloe looking to check up on her, or another lengthy rant from Lucifer about the evils of keeping a goblin familiar in the form of a cat around the penthouse.

“Tell me everything you know about Faustus Blackwood.”

Maze blinked. “...what, no ‘hello’?” she asked mockingly. “I thought the princess said to leave getting revenge to her and her aunts.”

“This isn’t about revenge, Maze. He’s- Either he has Sabrina and Beatrice, or I’m going to have to summon Lilith again to see if anyone in Hell was behind this, and we both know how _that_ is going to have to end.”

Maze froze.

“...let me call you back.”

She tore out of Vegas at speed enough to make any self-respecting traffic officer spontaneously combust from sheer outrage, and was already on the long, straight road through the desert when she found a patch of road clear enough that calling Lucifer again wouldn’t cause her the sort of accident that might slow her down.

“Where is Blackwood?” she demanded

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you! What do you know about him?”

Maze ground her teeth. “I know that he was a creep before he drove himself mad looking for Lovecraftian horrors from beyond reality, and changing cults hasn’t done anything to improve him! And also that I’m going to murder the _shit_ out of him when I catch up with him.”

He’d taken Trixie. Maze would rend the flesh from his bones and feed him his own entrails for that. He’d taken the princess too, but...she could look after herself. Human spawn were so fragile, by contrast. Trix was a little badass, but a demon of her own size would eat her alive, never mind someone like Blackwood, who had bound and banished the Three Plague Kings in his time, if Sabrina had been telling the truth, and Maze saw no reason to believe she hadn’t.

“Anything a bit more helpful, Maze?”

Maze growled. “I didn’t exactly spend much time around the creep. Pru and Ambrose teleported us back to the Spellmans pretty quick after we got hold of him.” She paused and then grudgingly admitted. “I think Mom was working with him for a while there, though.”

She could hear Lucifer growl at the other end. “ _Lilith_. Apparently I need to carry out another summoning.”

“You have fun with that,” Maze said darkly, and floored the accelerator. Whoever had taken Trixie was going to _wish_ that Lucifer had got to them first.

* * *

Reese Getty, Dan had decided before he was more than halfway through the first box of evidence taken from his office, was either the sort of elaborate conspiracy theorist he hadn’t thought existed outside disaster movies, or even more committed to the ‘metaphors’ thing than Lucifer. Or, God help them, genuinely insane enough to take _anything_ Lucifer Morningstar said seriously. 

Not that Dan could talk. 

He’d actually believed that this theory of Lucifer’s, that his mom was responsible and somehow _Charlotte_ was mixed up in it, might be something Lucifer seriously believed and not just him fucking around when Trixie and _his own kid_ were both in who-knew-what kind of danger!

Lucifer had never seemed to understand there was a time and place for joking around, but you’d think that Sabrina being in trouble too would be enough to finally convince him that, just this once, he might want to sober up and take things seriously. Hell, Dan had thought Trixie being in trouble would be enough for that, with the way she trailed around after Lucifer and his kid like a puppy. Apparently not, and he felt like an idiot for being disappointed in Lucifer in the first place, when he’d known all along what an immature asshole he could be when he went off like this.

Which left Dan sifting through box after box of- what was this? Photographs of Lucifer, of Maze, of Amenadiel, of Sabrina...even one or two of Charlotte, and that list of theories had made Dan roll his eyes almost out of his skull because really? _Really_?

Lover, sister, step-mom...well, Lucifer might’ve slept with Charlotte, though he swore blind that he hadn’t, he’d slept with everyone else in LA, it felt like sometimes, and Dan could entirely believe he’d forget one or two of them in the shuffle. But sister, really? Charlotte had told him herself that she was an only child, and that had to be a matter of public record. For that matter, she couldn’t be that much older than Lucifer, and might actually be younger than Amenadiel, which made step-mom...theoretically possible, but definitely not an option Dan wanted to think about. And if Charlotte really _was_ working for Lucifer’s mysterious mother, how come there wasn’t a single mention of her in all this obsessively-detailed paperwork?

Lucifer was just being paranoid again. Dan didn’t know why he’d ever let himself believe anything else.

But, so far, nothing in all of this that pointed to anything but a delusional obsessive with a bad case of religious mania and a conveniently-named object for his delusions. A few bits and pieces suggesting he’d started keeping tabs on a missionary society - the Society of the Repentant Innocents, which looked like some kind of Mormon offshoot - with an emphasis on saving the souls of those corrupted by the Devil. It was probably a bad sign that Dan could almost hear the quip Lucifer would make about how many people in LA needed their particular services, and how few would want them. Presumably he’d wanted to stay on their good side, given he was stalking Lucifer while under the impression he was the _actual_ Devil.

Dan wasn’t technically supposed to be involved with this part of the investigation, but at some point, it seemed, Agent Morgan had just thrown up his hands and decided that if he couldn’t stop them from investigating, they might as well do it as part of his team where he could keep an eye on them and share whatever they found.

He very carefully didn’t think of it as ‘sharing the credit’, because that was the last thing that mattered with Trix’s life on the line, but he knew that there’d be some in the department who did. He might’ve been one of them, a year ago, if it had been anyone else’s kid that got taken, which wasn’t a comfortable thought. Maybe he needed to make a donation to the Innocents himself. Or at least their nearest Catholic counterpart - he didn’t want to think what Abuela would have to say about him getting in with the Mormons and not giving the Church a penny.

Except-

Now he looked, there was nothing to suggest any sort of donation to the Innocents. Just the name of the society, an address, and a flyer of the sort handed out by street preachers, tacked up haphazardly on the same whiteboard he’d written his conspiracy theories on. The placement suggested it was connected, but that was all. And there were a lot of other oddities in all this. Starting with everything on the smaller whiteboard dedicated to Sabrina Spellman.

Dan didn’t have a clue how the mysterious amnesia of a high school principal, a mine cave-in with only one casualty and the equally mysterious unexpected tornado that had torn its way across rural New England last December had to do with either one another or Sabrina Spellman, but Reese seemed to have seen some kind of connection there, even if all Dan could see was that they’d all happened in the same small town he’d never heard of before it turned out that was where Lucifer had disappeared off to. 

The door swung open, and Dan looked up to see Chloe storming in, looking thunderous.

“I went through Reese’s financials. Couple of suspect payments, but nothing we hadn’t already accounted for.” She threw the paperwork down on a desk. “He was paying tabloid reporters to stalk us all. How- How did we not notice this?”

Dan shrugged. “If they were stalking Lucifer? How often does he notice anything that he can’t make about himself?”

Chloe growled. “Yeah. Beginning to think you might have a point on that.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Dan asked, craning his neck. He didn’t want to have to deal with Lucifer right now.

“No idea! He disappeared right after Reese’s second interrogation, and he’s not answering his phone, so _that_ was helpful!” She rubbed her face. “I don’t- I don’t know how he’s doing it. I mean...I’d never skip out on Trixie this way.”

“I know,” Dan said, straightening up, “I know. I mean, you’re here. Nobody’d blame you for staying out of this. I mean, proper protocol and all, but...here we are.” He paused, and asked: “Wait, the reporters were after all of us?”

“Apparently” Chloe huffed. “Me, Trixie, you, Ella, Charlotte…”

“Yeah, I saw…” Dan glanced back at the box. “You think he really believes all this?”

Chloe gave a long exhale. “I don’t know. I mean...he says he doesn’t. Which is pretty weird, considering a smart lawyer could parlay all of this into a pretty compelling insanity defence, but…”

“Yeah.” Dan frowned. “Tell you what, though, some of his theories are pretty wild. He’s convinced that Ella’s hiding some kind of massive dark secret.”

Chloe snorted. “He’s claiming that Lucifer is actually Satan and has magical powers, and _that’s_ the wildest theory for you?”

“Well, yeah. All of that’s just this guy being delusional. The Ella stuff doesn’t read like something out of an _Omen_ sequel.”

Chloe paused. “...good point. Still doesn’t prove he took Trixie. Or Sabrina.”

“He was definitely stalking Sabrina,” Dan offered. “And you said he was sending reporters after Trix…”

“Yeah…” Chloe rubbed her face. “I don’t- How did I miss that? It’s not as if I get followed around by reporters all the time…”

“You get a few,” Dan offered, by way of consolation. “And so does your mom. And...I mean, I didn’t notice either.”

If they hadn’t been working, he’d have hugged her. He might have done it anyway, if Chloe had been a different kind of person. As it was, she’d just see it as one more delay in trying to find Trixie before their time ran out.

“So, okay, if his alibi checks out and he wasn’t paying someone to do this…” Dan shook his head. “This doesn’t look good, Chlo. Is- I mean, do we have any other suspects? That _aren’t_ Lucifer’s mom?”

Chloe bit her lip. “...too many, honestly,” she admitted. “It could be a grudge against me or Lucifer or...Sabrina’s got a few people after her as well.”

“Yeah, Lucifer said. Not like he was nice enough to give us any names, though…” he saw the flicker in Chloe’s eyes. “Wait...did she tell you anything? I mean...I know you saw more of her than I did.”

Kind of unavoidable, since Lucifer had not gone in for bringing his kid to work, which meant Dan mostly saw Sabrina when picking Trixie up or dropping her off when Chloe wasn’t home. She’d seemed like a nice kid. It was hard to imagine her having any serious enemies.

“Not much,” Chloe admitted. “Uh...Lucifer did mention that she was staying with him because...this really isn’t mine to tell, but...someone was trying to groom her, back in Greendale. Lucifer claimed he was out of the picture, but…”

“But without her there to give testimony, what are the odds the charges would stick?” Dan finished for her. “Christ.”

“Yeah.” Chloe agreed, a little shakily. “I...can’t even imagine. But...apparently that’s why she’s here. Lucifer was...he was asking me about trauma recovery. I told him to ask Linda.”

Dan glanced at the door. “You think she might know something?”

“She might,” Chloe admitted. “Even if Reese is responsible...he’s her ex-husband-”

Dan stared. “Is he?”

“Apparently. I didn’t even know she’d been married!”

“Me neither. Wow. So...does she think he did it, or…?”

“I don’t know that, either. She’s...pretty shaken up about it. It’s...rough...finding out the person you married was never who you thought they were.”

Dan grimaced. “Chlo-”

“No. I mean...we don’t have time to argue about it right now. If you haven’t found anything useful, we should get back-” Her phone rang, and she fumbled for it, and blinked at the screen. “It’s Maze. Give me a sec.”

Dan shrugged. “Not like it can be less use than this.”

For lack of anything else to do, and because something was still nagging at the back of his mind, that inconvenient instinct that suggested an open-and-shut case might lead to some grand conspiracy of the sort Dan had never really bought into, he went back to the boxes. He could still hear Chloe, though, talking on the phone.  
“What- Maze, are you driving?- No, I mean...yes. Yes, both of them. I...the FBI’s here, we’re doing everything we can-”

There was something in this research, Dan was sure. Even if Reese Getty wasn’t their guilty party...he’d stalked everyone involved in this case so thoroughly that he was almost bound to know _something_ that might be useful. He turned over another photograph, and the hairs went up on the back of his neck, though he could not have said why. The photograph showed an empty church, two neat rows of pews and an altar at the far end, candles unlit and dust thick on the floors.

“-yeah,” Chloe was saying now. “That would...I don’t know what you’ll be able to do, Maze, but if there’s any way- No, I’m not- Okay. Okay. I’ll...see you when you get in, then.”

The phone clicked off, and she turned to face him. 

“Maze?” Dan asked, pointlessly.

“Yeah. Lucifer called her. She’s coming straight back.”

Though what Maze could do when the FBI was stumped, Dan still wasn’t sure. She was a bounty hunter, not an investigator, and Lucifer hadn’t gone straight to her when he’d needed a favour. He’d gone to Mallt-y-Nos or Matilda or whatever her name was, and her pack of enormous red-eyed black sniffer dogs that Dan still wasn’t convinced weren’t just to take advantage of the hellhound thing to stay on-theme.

“Not like it can make things any worse,” he allowed. “Though I’m starting to think the insanity plea might be more on the mark than Reese is admitting.”

Chloe glanced at the picture in Dan’s hands, and blinked.

“...wow.” She took another look into the box of Greendale photographs, and this time stared, her mouth falling half-open. “...she really wasn’t talking about LARPing.”

Dan frowned. “What?”

“This-” Chloe fished out a news article from the wild assortment in the box. Dan glanced at it - the mysterious disappearance of an old man in Greendale, a beloved local fixture and waxwork-maker, mentioned to play the role of Santa Claus every year at the local mall, who had disappeared from his home on Christmas week, with all the waxworks in his home smashed or stolen. “Sabrina told me- Well, no, she told Lucifer about...something involving a waxwork-maker while he was in the mental hospital. She LARPs - live-action roleplay,” she clarified, “With her friends. There was some kind of storyline involving Mr Bartel being a demon who trapped children’s souls in wax…”

Dan shrugged. “Maybe they heard about his disappearance?” he suggested, though it was a pretty cold thing to do if that was it, “Or...he made waxworks. I don’t think there’s anyone that doesn’t think that shit’s creepy.”

“Maybe…” Chloe was wavering. “It’s just...the game she was talking about. They were playing it over Christmas last year. Look at the date on this. It’s the same week.”

Dan stared down at the paper. 

“...you don’t think she had anything to do with this?”

Reese seemed to think she did, but that didn’t mean anything, the guy had a brain like a bagful of cats as things were. And Sabrina was just a kid, Trixie’s favourite babysitter…

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Lucifer stood at the balcony, looking out over Los Angeles. City of Angels. His city, before it was anything else now.

“Report.”

He heard, behind him, the whisper of fabric rustling as Mallt rose to her feet.

“Sire,” she said, low and respectful. “I have done as you bid. My hounds have searched this city from the Valley of Saint Ferdinand to-”

“I remember my orders. Well?”

Mallt drew in a shuddering breath. “We have not found her. I have failed you. I- I will accept whatever punishment you order, my king.”

Lucifer felt a smile spreading slowly across his face, the coldly satisfied smile of the King of Hell. “ _Any_ punishment?” he said silkily. “Even if I were to take the Hunt away from you, and assign some other demon at its head?”

Mallt shuddered. “...even then,” she gritted out, every word seeming to pain her. Somewhere in the room behind him, Black Shuck gave a low, plaintive whine.

Lucifer shook his head, trying to ignore the sharp stab of disgust at how easy it was to step back into the role. “Well, good for you, you aren’t getting punished,” he said shortly, turning to face her and her dogs. “Widen the search. If you can find her beyond city limits, you’ll be rewarded to the limits of what Lilith can offer in my name. If you can’t…” he paused. Mallt was kneeling, one hand over her heart and the other pressed to the stone floor. Her dogs stood or sat around her, at eager attention. Lucifer knew them all. Black Shuck, as big as a calf with but one great, glowing red eye. Barghest, with the Hellfire in his eyes and the rattling of chains in his wake. Lame Dip, who would drink the blood of passing mortals if not kept on a tight enough leash. The headless Yeth Hounds, that had once been human and were no longer. “...nothing in Earth or in Hell can escape the Wild Hunt,” Lucifer said, more to himself than to Mallt. “That still leaves a few possibilities.”

Another of his siblings, say, or Mum, if she had been lying. And- He could not forget, either, what Maze had told him. That Blackwood had sought aid from creatures older than Lucifer, older than the universe, horrors from far beyond this world that Dad had created.

If that was true...then even Lucifer might be out of his depth with this one. He could hardly punish Mallt for that, when she had honestly put forth her utmost effort. Not that he was going to tell _her_ that.

“You can consider yourself dismissed,” he said, waving an airy hand at Mallt. “Don’t bother taking the lift, this time.”

Mallt rose to her feet, and swept a deep and crisply perfect bow, before whistling to her hounds and walking past him. She sprang lightly up onto the rail, and then plunged headlong off it, all her dogs howling after her, and for the first time in decades now, the Wild Hunt screamed across the sky.


	6. Chapter 6

Maze screeched into LA like the proverbial bat out of Hell. She’d broken every speeding law on the books, taken every shortcut presented to her, and still knew that she’d arrived far too late.

She wanted to go straight to the precinct, but if Blackwood really was behind it, Chloe was outgunned in every possible respect, and even weakened as he was without his wings, Lucifer wouldn’t be.

Her usual spot in the parking beneath Lux was still marked out for her - Lucifer never had got around to cancelling most of her employee privileges - and the new security system let her in as easily as it did Chloe. Of course, there were downsides to that, namely that she didn’t get any warning when the elevator doors slid open and let her into an apartment stinking of sulphur. Apparently Lucifer really had decided to summon her mother for information.

She almost wanted to turn back and go down to the club, and cross the city to the precinct, except that if she tried to tell _them_ anything about what Blackwood was capable of, they’d just tell her to stop wasting their time. Observant as the humans could be sometimes, there were some things they felt the need to have hidden, even from themselves.

“-I hardly see how Mallt should be unable to find him,” Lilith was saying now, as Maze stepped out into the apartment. “Faustus Blackwood was never possessed of any great subtlety. He’s used catspaws before, of course, and the Judas Boys were, I recall, quite fanatically devoted to him, but he spoke of nothing but _breaking_ Sabrina, hammering her into shape as if she were weak enough to be swayed by brute force. We ceased to work together even before Sabrina signed Your book.”

“Baphomet’s book,” Lucifer corrected, “And I wouldn’t call any of that _helpful_.”

As Maze came in sight of her, Lilith spread her hands. She was wearing a different body to the one she had favoured when Maze was last in Hell - a handsome middle-aged woman with long dark hair and fine, dramatic features.

“You asked me what I knew of him. That is what I know.” She caught sight of Maze then, and her face changed, a smile spreading across it like oil spreading over water. “And here’s my Mazikeen. As faithful as ever she was.”  
“I’m _my own_ Mazikeen,” Maze snapped. Not Lucifer’s, anymore, and not her mother’s either. Definitely not her mother’s. She hadn’t been her mother’s since Lucifer had picked her out of her litter to be trained as his second, his right-hand woman, and she hadn’t been _Lucifer’s_ since she’d broken away and found the apartment she shared now with Chloe.

Her mother raised her eyebrows - this form had good eyebrows for that, high and arched. “And yet, here you are, still coming at your master’s call.”

“I’m here,” Maze retorted, “For Trixie. And for Sabrina too, I guess. If Lucifer wasn’t looking for them, I’d be gone.”  
Lucifer grimaced. “And if that’s all you have to offer,” he added, looking to Lilith, “You can consider yourself dismissed.”

Her mother looked distinctly displeased at that, and Maze couldn’t help a victorious flash of her teeth.

“I’m surprised at you,” Lilith said, “I thought you might like to know the results of my own inquiries.”

Lucifer had gone still. Maze couldn’t blame him.  
“Inquiries?” she prodded.

Her mother offered a thin smile. “Our Lord asked me to discover if anyone in Hell had made a second attempt against Sabrina. The Three Plague Kings have harboured a particular dislike for the idea of any such half-breed ascending to the throne of Hell.”  
“I’m not keen on the idea either,” Lucifer muttered, “I’ll launch another rebellion before Sabrina ever sees Hell.” He snorted. “Now, _there’s_ a use for that flaming sword Amenadiel says I have…”

That sounded ominous all on its own, but they could worry about it later.

“So?” Maze pressed. “Are they there?”  
It was possible to drag a mortal, living, into Hell. The effects were rarely good for the mortal.

Her mother gave her a withering look.

“I did not answer to _you_ , Mazikeen, even when you were Lucifer’s. What makes you believe I will now?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Answer her,” he ordered, not quite a snarl.

Lilith bristled for a moment, but answered. “This abduction was not the work of Hell.”

“You sure about that?” Maze asked. “Because if Lucifer already brought in Night Mallt and _she_ couldn’t find whoever did this…”

Mallt and Maze had never exactly run in the same circles - Mallt was younger than Maze by a good few millennia, and not one of Lilith’s children but one of those rare demons who’d started off human before coming to Hell. Still, she had to respect someone who could tame every hound of Hell to her hand, and who had been hunting humans for pleasure and duty since before Maze had ever considered it.

“I am certain. Hell has troubles enough of its own. I may have let it be believed that the apocalypse failed due to the early death of your herald, and so far the story appears to be widely believed.”

Maze couldn’t read the look that flashed then across Lucifer’s face. “...that’s not exactly evidence,” he said, bone-dry.

“I...have tried, my lord,” Lilith said, a little shakily still. “But the need to conceal your intention to never return from Earth has limited my effectiveness. If I were to be named queen in my own right…”

“You’d be overthrown within a week for not being an angel, and because sexism is one of those human foibles that the rank-and-file of Hell appears to have embraced wholeheartedly. Like aristocracy and pineapple on pizza.” Lucifer said it almost carelessly, but Maze could see the lines tightening around her mother’s mouth.

She bowed shallowly, rather than giving an answer.

“So,” Lucifer went on, as if she hadn’t done so. It was one of his more irritating habits, at least when he was doing it to you, but there was a certain vicious satisfaction in seeing her mother on the receiving end. “ _Do_ you have any actual evidence?”

“The child is not in Hell,” Lilith said plainly. “And if she were on Earth, but in the power of Hell...one would imagine Mallt would have found her by now. Unless, of course, she was a part of it.”

Maze’s hackles went up. If her mother knew something-

Lucifer made a curt gesture of dismissal. “ _Thank_ you, Lilith, I would say you’ve been helpful, but…” He spoke a single word in a language that seemed to hang and spark in the air, sending a prickle of something that almost hurt down Maze’s spin. Enochian, the language of the spheres.

The summoning circle shimmered and seemed to distort for a moment, and then popped like a soap bubble, taking her mother down with it.

Lucifer drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and turned away from the chalk circle still drawn on the floor, broken now. 

“We should get back to the Detective,” he said. “Amenadiel’s keeping an eye on Mum. She might say she doesn’t have the witchling, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t playing silly buggers with her wording.”

“You sure you can trust him with that?”

Maze and Amenadiel were...all kinds of complicated, and had been for a while, but it was hard to miss how much of a mama’s boy he could be. Lucifer was one too, of course, but he rebelled more often than Amenadiel did.

“Not...completely,” Lucifer admitted grudgingly, “But nobody else I know could even hope to hold her back. Amenadiel’s at least one person she _probably_ doesn’t want to see hurt.”

Maze couldn’t really argue with the logic of that one. Weakened by her human form or not, the Goddess of All Creation could still probably wipe the floor with her without even making an effort.

“What do we tell Chloe?” she asked.

Lucifer shrugged. “That the lead I was looking into didn’t pan out. But we’ve narrowed it down to two of the hellspawn’s enemies, and poor Reesey isn’t either one of them.”

* * *

Reese wasn’t expecting anyone to come back into his interrogation room until his lawyer turned up. Assuming the Telegraph would pay for his lawyer, this time. Stalking was a private misdemeanour, and even if it was sometimes a necessary professional hazard...he hadn’t claimed to be writing a story on Lucifer in months. And abduction charges would not look good for the paper.

He hadn’t abducted those girls, he reminded himself. They couldn’t tie him to this. And stalking charges...those could be fought. He was a Pulitzer-winning reporter, if he said he was investigating Lucifer and his potential connections to organised crime - he’d leant on judges to sway convictions before, it wasn’t so great a leap - it was Lucifer’s word against his and maybe he could create enough of a scandal that the LAPD would have to see what a liability to them Lucifer was-

The door swung open, and he looked around, expecting Agent Morgan, and stopped dead at the sight of his wife. She looked tired. As beautiful as ever, but all worn out, her eyes shadowed behind her glasses.

“Linda-” he managed, half breathless. “What- What are you doing here?”

Linda offered a tight, tired smile. “I was with Lucifer when he heard you’d been arrested.”

Reese’s skin crawled. “...you were?”

“Yes. And-” she paused, her fingers tightening as she clasped them. “I...I want to apologise,” she said, a little too quickly.

“...you do?”

“Yes.” Linda glanced down at her hands. “I saw your research,” she admitted. “And...I didn’t realise, before, how much I had been ignoring. How many things didn’t start to make sense until I saw- Until I realised what Lucifer was. And how overwhelming that can be- That was what you meant, when you came to my office that night you signed the papers, wasn’t it?”

It felt like...like everything Reese had wanted. Linda knew. She knew, and she’d come back to him.

“But-” Linda bit her lip. “Reese...I have to know...what...did you have anything to do with him? I know- I know what Sabrina is,” she added, seeming to force the words out through great effort - Reese couldn’t blame her, to think she’d been _treating_ the Antichrist - “But Trixie...she’s just a kid. An entirely human, innocent kid.”

“I didn’t...that wasn’t _me_ ,” Reese said quickly. “It was the angels.”

Linda blinked rapidly. “...angels?”

“Yeah, I-” He swallowed. “I didn’t know they were going to take her too. But it’s all right,” he added, “They’re not...they’re witch-hunters, not-”

“Witch-hunters?” Linda asked, frowning. “How...how do you know all of this? It wasn’t on your board.”

“No. I...I guess you already know I took a trip up to Greendale last month.”

“Yeah. I mean...I saw the interview.”

That sent a hot little stab of squirming unease into Reese’s side. He’d never wanted Linda to see him this way, in cuffs in a police interrogation room- But it didn’t matter. She’d seen him like that, and she’d come for him anyway, she believed him anyway, she loved him anyway-

“Well...I went up there just...you know, looking for more information about what he was doing there, and whether...whether there was anything important. I wasn’t looking for witch-hunters, but...I found them. Or...we sort of found each other.”

Linda frowned. “...I’m not following.”  
“I was investigating a church in the area - the Holy Mother Church of Greendale? The Antichrist was baptised there.”

He half-expected Linda to wonder aloud that Lucifer had permitted such a thing, so he could reveal what had happened to Diana Spellman, the woman who had borne the Antichrist and tried too late to put things right, but she only nodded.

“I met the priest there - Father Brown? And he...he was the one who had called the Order to Greendale, to investigate a coven of witches that was practicing in the Greendale Woods. He...he said something about human sacrifice, but I wasn’t…”

It hadn’t honestly seemed to matter, right then. Well, obviously it _mattered_ , in that it was just another sign of what monsters they were, and what a monster Lucifer was to accept their worship, but it hadn’t really been relevant to _him_. 

The lines around Linda’s mouth tightened, but she simply said. “Can you...describe...this Father Brown for me?”

Very faint warning bells started to go off in the back of Reese’s head, but Linda’s eyes were on him, and he couldn’t disappoint her again. “Uh...tall, about my height. Black hair, and he had it slicked back, black eyes, his ears stuck out…” he paused, remembering that one, incongruous, un-priestly detail. “Very long fingernails. Like, regular talons.”

Linda let out a low hiss between her teeth. “I...I see. And- And he introduced you to the Order.”

“No. No, he sent me packing, but I- I caught up with the Order’s man outside the church. Apparently this coven had killed a couple of their guys last winter, and that’s why they’d answered the summons so quickly. Anyway, I get talking with this guy - Sazuphael, his name was - and he’s a bit cagey at first, but he opens right up when I tell him I heard what he was saying to Father Brown, and I believe him.”

“What happened then?” Linda’s face was white and drawn, no doubt going back over everything Lucifer had ever said or done to show his true nature around her.

Reese shrugged. “I bought him a drink - juice, apparently angels aren’t allowed alcohol...or coffee-”

Linda made a noise like a cross between a snort and a strangled snicker.

“-and we got talking. He told me what he’d found out about this coven, and everything he knew about witches, and I...I told him why I was there.”

“You told him about Sabrina.”

“...and about you,” Reese admitted. “I had to- I knew he’d sucked you into his orbit. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being corrupted by him-”

Linda flinched at that. He couldn’t blame her, remembering the Devil’s hands on her.

“So you told them where to find Sabrina,” she said, a little shakily. “Did you- I mean...did you share all your research?”

“I...may have given Sazuphael a few copies,” Reese admitted. “Not all of them. I was- I was keeping those for you. So I could _prove_ to you, what he was.”

Linda’s fingers twitched in front of her, but her gaze remained steady.

“So...who are these angels? Are they...you know…” she jerked her head pointedly upwards. “Is there some kind of angel organisation devoted to hunting witches and devils and that sort of thing?”

Reese smiled, he couldn’t help it. “They’re right here! On Earth! I thought, when I first found all of this out, that I’d be alone, but they’re here. A whole organisation of them - they call themselves the Order of the Innocents. Their ancestors came to Earth millennia ago, and they’ve continued the fight all down the generations. These are professionals, Linda! They know what to do with witches and demons-”

“And what,” Linda said, her voice curiously distant, “Do they do to little girls who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Reese almost wondered what she meant for a second, but then he remembered the other kid- no, just the kid, the Antichrist wasn’t any such thing.

“She’ll be fine,” he said impatiently. “Like I said, they hunt witches. But...she’s been around Lucifer more than you have, and she’s younger. They’ll want to purify her or something, remove his influence.”

Linda had gone very white now. “And Sabrina?” she asked.

Reese shrugged. “I thought they were pretty clear about all that. Suffer not a witch to live. She’ll be gone, and the end of the world can’t happen. Without the Antichrist, maybe- maybe the world can go on forever, or- or Lucifer will just have to start all over, and we-”

Linda physically recoiled, her chair clattering away behind her as she sprang to her feet. “I have to tell Lucifer.”

The words hit Reese like a punch to the gut. “What- But I told you. I told you what he is, why don’t you-”

“I know what he is!” Linda said, and her voice was cold. “I have _always_ known. He’s a good man, and my friend, and if _either_ of those girls has been hurt, he will be the least of your worries.”

* * *

Lucifer and Maze had arrived at the precinct not long after Linda had gone in, and Chloe didn’t know whether to be furious or desperately relieved to see them.  
“Maze,” she said, for lack of anything else. “I...thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was.” Maze flashed a momentary grin. “Reminded me of home. Then Lucifer called and said the kids were in trouble. You thought I wouldn’t come and help?”

“Yeah, well, we’re way ahead of you,” Dan said, a little gruffly, coming up behind Chloe and shooting a filthy look at Lucifer. “Linda’s in there now with our suspect. You know, the real one.”

Lucifer made a revolted noise. “If Reese Getty is capable of holding _my_ daughter for any length of time, Daniel, he is considerably more than I took him for. And my judgement isn’t often wrong. One of the privileges of being the Devil.”  
Chloe snorted. “You get the wrong suspect first every other week,” she reminded him.

“Not actually what I meant.” For a moment, Lucifer looked almost squirrelly. “But since I got everything there was to get out of Reesey last time…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Chloe retorted. “That’s why I asked Linda. He _wants_ to convince her. He doesn’t really care about any of us.” 

It was a type she’d seen a few times before. None of them mattered to Reese Getty, not really. Everything was just a poker chip he could cash in one day in exchange for receiving Linda, gift-wrapped with a pretty bow and none of those inconvenient doubts about where this relationship was going, and where it should have been left. 

“So,” she said, a bit too quickly. “Finally decided to come back?”

Lucifer coughed. “Yes, well...my lead didn’t exactly pan out. Mallt and her hounds haven’t had so much of a sniff of Beatrice _or_ my hellspawn, and much as I hate to admit it, my mother appears to be innocent in this case as well.”

Chloe could almost feel the relieved exhale that Dan let out. She couldn’t blame him. A lead. Of course it had been a lead. He hadn’t abandoned her again. He’d just had an idea about how to find their daughters and gone off on his own to pursue it, because something about this mysterious mother of his _frightened_ him, the way Malcolm and all his threats never had.

“See?” he said, triumphant. “I told you Charlotte wouldn’t do something like this! What sort of hold does your mom have on her, anyway?”

“You would not believe me if I told you,” Lucifer said, sounding a little distracted. Beside him, Maze rolled her eyes.

“That’s never stopped you before,” she muttered. “So, guessing you’ll want me around for this bit? Need to know who I’m hunting and all.”

“The FBI is on this case,” Chloe warned her, “They’re not going to bring in a bounty-hunter.”

“Who said anything about the _case_?” Maze grinned. “Bloody vengeance was always one of my strong suits.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Lucifer said, craning his neck. “Speaking of, which they appear to have got to an interesting bit, so maybe we could continue this conversation _after_ the interview?”

Reese’s story was unbelievable from start to finish, but...it was clear that he believed it. And he had gone to Greendale. And there was a Satanist cult out in the woods. The human sacrifice sounded...horrifying, and probably false anyway - Chloe still remembered how _harmless_ the Satanist cult they’d run into in LA had been - but it was the sort of rumour that sprung up around Satanists, it was why Sabrina and her family had kept it so quiet. And if Reese had this delusion, why not others? It was common enough, on people who’d got on Lucifer’s bad side.

Agent Morgan was staring into the interrogation room with a little furrow between his brows, but Chloe’s mind was already racing ahead of her. Fundamentalists, the sort who might believe that there really was a God and a Devil and that the Devil might choose to start a nightclub in LA. And if they really believed all of that, and that Sabrina was going to bring about the end of the world...then it would seem only logical to kill her. Dan was looking more and more sickened with every word, and Chloe couldn’t blame him. They’d taken Trixie to _purify_ her, whatever that meant, and maybe they’d get her back alive, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe that meant unharmed.

And Sabrina- She couldn’t imagine what Lucifer must be feeling. To know she was in all this danger, because someone had taken his persona too seriously-

She looked over just as Linda reached her breaking point, and saw the stunned, wide-eyed look on Lucifer’s face at Linda’s last words, so vulnerable that she almost wanted to look away, because this...felt like something she shouldn’t be seeing. It couldn’t be that much of a surprise to him, could it? The man would blow his own horn all day if you let him, but...that was always about what he could do for people. Not what he was. Unless you counted claiming to be the Devil, she supposed, which was exactly the opposite of what Linda was saying.

Later. There would be time for that later.

When Linda left the interrogation room, she was pale and her hands were shaking, but she looked determined, all the same. 

“Good job in there, Doctor,” Agent Morgan said levelly. “And good idea sending her in, Detective Decker.”

Linda nodded jerkily. “Yes, I...tell me I didn’t just do all of that for nothing.”

Morgan glanced around. “It’s...definitely a wild story. Witches, angels...we’re going to need a better idea of what that’s a metaphor for.”

“Sabrina was brought up Satanist,” Chloe volunteered. “Her aunts are part of a congregation there. They’re pretty secret. That’s probably what this Father Brown was talking about-”

“His name isn’t Brown.” That was Mazikeen. “It’s Blackwood.”

Dan stared. “As in…”

“That’s the one,” Lucifer said hollowly. “I knew he’d be mixed up in this somehow.”

That was quite the claim, given last Chloe heard he’d been chasing down his own mother as a suspect, but they could bicker about that later. God, she hoped they had the chance to bicker about that later.

“Anyone want to fill me in on this?” Agent Morgan demanded, a little testily.

“Father Faustus Blackwood,” Chloe said shortly. “Presumably an assumed name, but...he was Sabrina’s Aunt Zelda’s husband. The marriage ended acrimoniously, and apparently he attempted to poison his entire congregation before fleeing the area. Recently escaped custody in Massachusetts.”

Morgan stared at her. “...so how come the FBI hasn’t heard of this guy?”

“...you haven’t?” Dan demanded.

“No.”

“Well,” Linda said, and something about her tone made Chloe think _lie_. “Isolated cult event, limited to one state...not every FBI agent can logically know everything about every crime in every part of the country…”

“Right…” Morgan said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “But, either way, you knew him from that description? Well enough to swear to it?”

“Maze has an exceptionally good memory for sinners,” Lucifer put in grimly.

“Right. But that part doesn’t matter to this kidnap. If this Order of the Innocents group exists, and goes after Blackwood’s former cult, it might be relevant, but if not…”

“Order of the Innocents…” Dan muttered. “I’ve seen that name before! Or- Something like it, anyway.”

Every head in the room snapped around to look at him.

“You have?” Chloe demanded.

Dan nodded. “Yeah...yeah, it was when I was going through the physical evidence from the office, there was some kind of flyer for them. The Society of the Repentant Innocents, they’re a Christian group, missionaries. Specialise in...let me see if I have this right...saving the souls of those corrupted by the Devil. You don’t think-”

“That’s them,” Morgan said, “We need to find them-” 

He was already producing his phone from out of his pocket. So was Lucifer, who’d been far, far too quiet so far.

“Hey, babygirl,” Morgan was saying into the phone now, and at this point Chloe was too keyed up to give him the odd look that opener so desperately deserved. “It’s me. I need you to call up all property records for a religious organisation calling itself the Society of the Repentant Innocents-”

“Let me save you some time,” Lucifer said dryly, putting the phone to his ear. “Amenadiel, Mum said that she’d found more Nephilim in LA she wanted to drown? _Yes_ , it’s important. _Yes-_ I need to find them. Because they have the hellspawn, why _else_!” He pocketed the phone and announced. “They have a church in Westwood. The Church of the Repentant Innocents. Apparently they like to stay on-theme.”

* * *

No matter how much help they’d provided during the investigation, there was a line Morgan wasn’t willing to cross with a victim’s family, and that was bringing them along to get the kids out. He understood the frustrations that caused, and when it had been Savannah and Hank, nothing could have kept him away...and he’d paid for that. Not this time. Detectives Decker and Espinoza were both very capable, and Mr Morningstar’s record suggested something similar for all his unorthodox connections and strange disappearances. Morgan still wasn’t sure he trusted the man yet. He’d found that information a little too quickly with just one call to his brother - the same brother who’d insisted on coming to the station afterwards, to join them all in their efforts to get brought along to the church, just in time to catch the end of the argument to bring Decker, Espinoza and Morningstar along.

Amenadiel Canaan, psychiatrist, was, according to Lucifer, ex-military, ‘and as loyal a soldier as Dad could have wished’, which fit with the profile Morgan was building up around the man. Strict military family seemed probable. Cult survivor was another option. And Lucifer had been able to find the information on the Society of the Repentant Innocents from him far, far too easily when he’d said what it was for. He’d called them the Nephilim. The names fit too. Sazuphael, Amenadiel - angel names, but no angel Morgan had ever heard of before.

If they’d come from this cult, Morgan needed to know about it, and Canaan seemed more likely to give him a straight answer than Morningstar. He headed over.

“Hey.”

Canaan looked around. “...hello,” he said, a little awkwardly. Different accent to his brother, which undermined the ‘adopted in childhood’ theory, unless one or other of them had adopted a different accent, but both sounded real to Morgan’s ear.

“I hear you were the one who found us the information on where these people were holed up.”

“My mother did,” Amenadiel corrected, “She’s been...keeping tabs...on the Innocents for a while now.”

“How long, exactly.”

“I don’t know.” A tic pulsed for a second in Canaan’s cheek, and then was still, but even without it, it would’ve been clear how little he liked admitting that much.

“Any particular reason for it?”

“She...has an interest in their beliefs,” Canaan said diplomatically.

“Religious?”

“She...certainly has...or had...a very intimate relationship with God.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer.

“Your brother seemed to know she had an interest,” Morgan probed.

Canaan shrugged. “Lucifer...is a much more suspicious person than I am. Maybe he’s right to be. Maybe I am just too trusting.” There was real bitterness in his voice now. Interesting. Something had happened, then, something recent, and it had felt like a betrayal. 

More than that, both brothers had known there was something in the Innocents to be suspicious _of_ , even before they’d known they were the culprits here.

“Your family have any sort of... _connection_...to this cult.”

Canaan was very still for a moment. Working out, Morgan thought, whether or not it would be sensible of him to lie. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he admitted.

“Do you want to tell me what that connection is?”

Amenadiel paused. “...it seems...very probable...that this Society of the Repentant Innocents was founded by a distant relative,” he said cautiously. “You might call him a cousin, very many times removed. My mother has always been...dedicated...to her family. She sees this offshoot as...shameful.”

“Heretical?” Morgan suggested, keeping his voice as light and even as he could.

“...something like that.”

He had Garcia looking into the history of this sect now, trying to give him something he could use to predict behaviour. The cult itself, based on what little information they had found in Reese Getty’s papers, seemed like a kind of hodgepodge of denominations, borrowing the aesthetic sensibilities of Mormonism but almost none of the theological underpinnings.

That was how they’d got access to the apartment. Missionaries going door-to-door. Sabrina had opened the door to them, but, like anyone, refused to let them in, so they’d stabbed her and stepped over the body to retrieve Trixie Decker, the child they meant to ‘cleanse’ rather than to murder.

If this was accurate, though, then there had been more to their choice of ‘Antichrist’ than just Morningstar’s chosen persona. And if that was so, Morgan needed to know everything he could about Morningstar and Canaan and their ties to the cult.

“So what-” he started, and then one of the uniforms stuck his head around the door.

“Agent Morgan?” he said breathlessly. “I- There’s been a phone call. They were asking for Lu- Mr Morningstar and Detective Decker.”

“From the cult?” Morgan asked, his mind already whirling - this didn’t fit, it didn’t make sense, why-

“Yes, sir.” The young man swallowed. “They just said: ‘Come and see’.”  
  


* * *

Two more of the witch-hunters dragged them up into the main hall of the church. It was almost a disappointment. Sabrina had been born in New England, and grown up attending services in the grey stone solemnity of the desecrated church. Her mother had been Catholic, born to soaring arches and stained glass windows, the trappings of a system in which mortal hands might attempt to create beauty to honour their god, and in doing so admit they might surpass his works.

This was a low white-painted room, windowless, like an auditorium, lit by chandeliers, with many rows of seats, every one occupied. Men and women, of every age and race under the sun, from children no older than Trixie to grey-haired elders, every one of them soberly dressed and watching with avid interest as the two of them were brought out. Trixie was struggling in their grip, but Sabrina was still. Conserving her strength, she told herself, but the low pounding ache in her side put the lie to that. The truth was, even with the wound bound and dressed now, she lacked the strength to fight them. At the very front of the hall, in place of the cross or icon of their god that Sabrina was used to, there were only a stake...two stakes...and an altar.

She began to struggle as they were dragged nearer to the raised dais where the stakes and the altar were set up, but it was too little, and she was still too weak. They were bound around with ropes, hands tied behind the stakes, their feet bound around the ankle, high enough on the stakes to see above the heads of the whole congregation. Below them on, the dais, just behind the altar, stood the witch-hunters she had seen before. Gileon and Zanaphiel and Sarandiel, lined up neatly as if awaiting inspection. And then, at last, another man took the stage.

Sabrina’s first thought was that he reminded her strangely of Father Blackwood, although she could not have said why. He was shorter than Father Blackwood had been, heavier-set, with a neatly-clipped beard where Father Blackwood had always kept himself clean shaven, and wore a neat suit - not cheap, but not as beautifully-made as Lucifer’s - instead of Blackwood’s elaborate robes of office. Still, there was a certain quality there that made her think of him, though you would not find one similarity in their dress or in their features, if you stood them side-by-side.

“My beloved innocents,” he said, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of welcome. “We have all heard of the terrible events of this past winter, when two of our noble flock in Massachusetts passed on at last to wherever it is, we, the unfriended angels, must go.”

If they were ‘unfriended’, Sabrina thought, it might have something to do with their tendency to talk as if they were in a morality play. And not a particularly good one.

“We have learnt, since,” the man went on, “Of the terrible events that followed, and how it was only by the hand of Our Holy Grandfather that this our world was preserved for us, that we might continue our holy quest for redemption in His eyes!”

“Praise be to the Lord!” the whole congregation echoed, so that the hall rang with it, drowning out Sabrina’s muttered protest that they could not have got that interpretation _more_ wrong if they had tried. 

“Born of the _darkest_ sin against God,” the preacher went on, “Soulless and accursed, our brothers Gideon and Jerathmiel, and our sister Mehitable were struck down by the Great Beast herself, the Antichrist!” He gestured, a wide sweeping arc, to Sabrina.

A sigh went around the room, sorrow ringing hollow when Sabrina remembered that the odds were that nobody in this room had ever even _met_ the missionaries in question. “And, lo, we were summoned, even above the mission of our faith in Massachusetts, because the worthy priest who summoned us knew that it must be our task to destroy it!”

“You do realise,” Sabrina said into the silence that followed that proclamation, her voice not shaking only by a supreme effort of will, “That he was one of ours, don’t you? A Priest of Night?”

“Silence!” the preacher thundered. 

Sabrina, made reckless by the certainty of death, laughed aloud. “You didn’t! Sa- Go- _Somebody_ , that’s almost sad! All of you witch-hunters, and you couldn’t even spot a Satanic High Priest when you saw him-!”

“Be silent!” the preacher repeated. “Zanaphiel-”

Zanaphiel stepped forward, and struck Sabrina hard across the face, a clean backhanded blow that split her lip and bloodied her nose. She grinned through it, all bravado, but it was a hollow sort of courage, and faded quickly as the preacher went on.

“Not content with destroying our poor brothers and sister, this...abomination in human flesh nearly brought about the end of the world in her wickedness, stopped only by a blood sacrifice to Our Holy Grandfather of more than a hundred witches! Brought to Los Angeles, she continued to spread her pollution, infecting even this poor innocent child with her filth!”

Something cold gripped at Sabrina’s heart. Trixie, she thought. Trixie, who had never learnt how to keep her mouth shut and say the politic thing in her life, who would never tell them what they wanted to hear.

“That’s right,” she said, more shakily now, all bravado. “Kill her before me, and her soul will go straight to Hell!”

It might only buy her hours, minutes, seconds, but that was a little more time for rescue, if it was going to come at all, to reach them.

“Sabrina-” Trixie managed, her voice shrill and squeaky with the fear she couldn’t quite hide. 

“She cannot save you now, child,” the preacher said, and it was obscene, how kind that voice could sound. “Only the Lord can do that now. Vow to accept Him as your one true Saviour, and you will be saved!”

 _Just say it,_ Sabrina wanted to beg. _You don’t have to mean it, but say it anyway, because he’s right about one thing - I can’t save you now._

Beside her, she heard Trixie drawing in a breath.

“I won't.”

The shocked gasp that went around the room was louder now, and infinitely more genuine.

“You’ll kill me whether I say it or not,” Trixie said shakily. “And it’s not true anyway! He isn’t! He was horrible to Lucifer, and to Amenadiel, and I won’t say I love him and not them! You can’t make me!”

There was whispering in the audience now, and Sabrina could see the preacher drawing back.

Desperately, she forced a laugh. “You see?” she declared. “So long as I live, she will never repent.”

The preacher nodded, sad and weary.

“Very well, then. Sarandiel!” The woman from the cell stepped forward, a blade glinting in her hand. “By the power of God, invested in me by the line of the angel Arakiel, I declare judgement on this spawn of Satan! By her destruction, may we be redeemed and uplifted. By her blood, may we be saved, and freed of the evil that is Satan! By the will of Our Most Holy Grandfather, who shall smite the wicked, and plunge her into the fiery pit!”

Sabrina heard Trixie cry out, as Sarandiel’s knife drew across her throat. For a moment, there was no pain, and then hot wetness spilt down across her shirt, and Sabrina found that she was already choking on blood.


	7. Chapter 7

Blood filled her nose and mouth, too much and too thick as she twitched and writhed against her bonds, choking, still trying to scream even as she couldn’t draw a full breath. She could hear Trixie, though, screaming loud enough for both of them, over and over again, calling a word, a name - Sabrina’s own name - in a voice that sounded thick and almost as choked as Sabrina’s own with tears.

Sabrina’s life did not flash before her eyes. Except- The face that rose up in her mind’s eye wasn’t her own, or Harvey’s or her aunties or Ambrose or even her father. It was Earl Johnson. God Johnson, as she’d never yet been able to stop thinking of him, and who, for a moment, she’d really believed was the False God. A false False God. Did that make him real? He’d been kind to her, and he hadn’t needed to be. Perhaps the False God loved all his creations, but he did not love her, and he did not love her family. _Nothing exists in this world that wasn’t meant to_ , God Johnson had told her. Maybe that had been all him, and maybe it hadn’t, but it was closer to that all-forgiving ideal, the god her mother had believed in, than anything else she had seen of Heaven yet.

 _Grandfather_ , she thought - not prayed, because prayer would mean that these butchers had won, and no Spellman had ever accepted defeat - _Grandfather, if you were half as good a man as your imposter, you’d save Trixie from this. I know you never cared for me or Dad or anyone else who wouldn’t obey you, but the God my mother thought she was worshipping wouldn’t leave a little girl to die just to get rid of me._

“See now, child, the fate of all who defy His sovereignty,” the preacher was saying now, Sabrina could hear him as the blood soaked through her shirt. “And embrace the purifying fire of true righteousness.”

“No!” Trixie half-screamed, half-sobbed. “No, no, no, you can’t have killed her! I won’t say it, I won’t say it if it means God says it was right for you to kill her!”

 _Just say it, kid,_ Sabrina half wanted to say. She’d despised that same impulse in the missionaries, but now- If it kept Trixie safe, what did it _matter_ , when she was going to die either way? 

“Then let the fire cleanse you!” the preacher roared, “Zanaphiel, Gileon, the torches-”

 _No,_ Sabrina would have screamed if she could, no, they couldn’t- Except, of course, that they could. They would. They had.

Desperately, she reached for her powers, but there was nothing there, she was on hallowed ground-

And then, like breaking ground at the base of a dry well, like the rumbling of a dam about to break, she felt it.

The power came in a shocking, overwhelming rush, and all at once, she could breathe again. She felt...boundless, greater than herself, more power in her than mortal bones could contain, and made all of ice, colder than the Ninth Circle, crueller than the deepest torments of the Pit. She was something more, or something less, than human now, and something in that vastness _hungered_.

She wanted to laugh and cry and scream and devour the world whole. The power was rising in her now like a riptide, and where she had struggled against it before, now she gave herself over to it, letting it sweep Sabrina Spellman with it into the heart of that dark power, over vast, flat expanses of magma-cracked ground, swept and buffeted by tearing winds; through deep caverns where the bodies of the damned twisted, seemingly turned all to stone, petrified in burning ash; over a field of dead men strung up like scarecrows while the birds pecked at their eyes; past a bloody river and through a wood of screaming, twisted trees, a rusting iron woodsman clanking endlessly through the dark; over the icebound heart of the Ninth Circle, and the gaudy palace of Pandaemonium beyond it, where Baphomet had made his seat; further up and further in, soaring through the choking ash until, through the gloom, she saw a high pillar rising above all of Hell, and atop that pillar, the throne that awaited her. 

And Hell in all its thousand voices seemed to cry out:

 _Torzu, tabaan drilpa._ Rise, High Queen.

Her bonds fell away as if they had been so much straw, the ropes that bound her hand and foot sizzling away into nothing as she rose into the air.

“Impossible,” she heard the preacher croak out beneath her, and felt the smile spreading slow and wicked across her face.

“What, haven’t you heard?” she asked, the words seeming to come from far away, from some other mouth than hers. “Impossible things are happening every day!”

* * *

“You’re sure about this?” Agent Morgan asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, as Chloe put on the bulletproof vest - under her clothes, but there was no time for false modesty right now. “You’d be playing right into their hands.”

“They want us there to watch,” Chloe said grimly. “Which means that they won’t hurt- won’t kill Sabrina until we’re there.” Whatever they were going to do to Trixie, they might have already done, but if they didn’t mean to kill her, there was some security in that. She wasn’t sure she believed Reese Getty, didn’t trust him at all, but she had to hope.

“We’ll be right outside,” Agent Morgan said softly. “The moment you give us the signal, we come in. Agent Garcia’s already getting us the plans for the church. You’ll go in the front door, we’ll come in the back. With any luck, they’ll be too focused on getting reactions out of you to look for a trap. Inviting the parents to watch their children murdered is classic sadistic behaviour-”

“I know,” Chloe said quickly, “I mean...I attended one of David Rossi’s lectures on criminal profiling a few years back.”

“Your sad lack of hobbies strikes again, Detective,” Lucifer said, sounding rather brittle now. “You _do_ realise,” he added, giving the bulletproof vest he’d been handed a look of profound distaste, “That if they really are planning to try and kill me, shooting will not be the method of choice?”

“Just taking every precaution,” Morgan said evenly. “Now, remember, you’re going to have a wire on you. The signal is the word ‘righteous’, that should be fairly easy to work into the conversation when you see they’re distracted.”

Chloe nodded, a little shakily.

The phone call had come just as they’d started to close in, and that information hadn’t even left the precinct yet. The cult had been watching them. Or watching Reese. At this point, it was hard to tell which it was. Unless it was just coincidence that this was when they had been ready to make that call.

Chloe was, by and large, a believer in coincidences. Coincidences happened every day. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to poke them with a stick when they turned up, and this one already stank of something going on beneath the surface. It was, almost certainly, a trap. But they were going in anyway, because it was the best shot they had at getting everyone out of this alive.

She looked across the van at Lucifer. “...you realise that if they really believe that you are...who you say you are...they’ll probably try to kill you too.”

“Not much point inviting us here otherwise,” Lucifer agreed. “I did say that…”

“No, you just said they wouldn’t _shoot_ you. Which isn’t anything like a guarantee. Ask Ella about that supernatural show she likes sometime.”

“Which _one_?”

Chloe couldn’t remember the title, and at this point, they had bigger things to worry about. “Ask Ella. Something about a special devil-killing gun.”

“Well, there isn’t one,” Lucifer said, a little haughtily. “No special guns required.” He paused, and added. “Some Kryptonite required, admittedly-”

“That’s Superman.”

“It was also a metaphor. A real one, this time.”

“If you two are done fooling around,” Morgan interrupted, “We’re here.”

‘Here’ was just around the corner from the church, the better for Morgan and his team to get into position without the abductors’ knowledge. It was such a _normal_ street, was the worst of it. A nice neighbourhood in a historic area, just a few blocks from UCLA. She’d thought she was more-or-less used to the horrors hiding behind an aggressively mundane exterior, but this...this felt new. Wrong.

“Ready, Detective?” Lucifer asked, sounding uncharacteristically serious. 

Chloe nodded jerkily, checking that her clothes were completely covering the bulletproof vest, just in case.

The Church of the Repentant Innocents was a low, white-painted building, with Grecian columns outside the front double doors. It looked absurdly wholesome, as the site of their daughters’ abduction. 

Dan had fought to be allowed to come along too, but Agent Morgan had pre-empted him. He wouldn’t have allowed Chloe and Lucifer to come, if they weren’t the ones who had been demanded, and the ones Morgan had to use as bait. Dan had been furious, but he couldn’t force his way in, and at this point, Chloe was glad. _One_ of them needed to be out of the line of fire, just in case Trixie made it out of this, and Chloe didn’t. Maze hadn’t argued at all, which probably meant she was here already, watching and ready to provide that little bit of extra backup. It was entirely unprofessional, but right now, Chloe was glad of that. Agent Morgan had shown himself to be nothing but capable and reliable so far, but she’d still trust Maze ahead of him at her back.

She wondered if Lucifer was making his own calculations of this kind...and then remembered that, of the girls, Sabrina was the one these people wanted dead. For all they knew, these people could have already killed her. Even if they hadn’t, Lucifer’s conviction of his own invincibility had been almost enough to convince Chloe, once, before she’d seen him bleed.

“You know,” Lucifer said after a moment’s flat staring at the building. “If you people have to build churches and such to my Father, I think the Catholics have the right idea. Go all out with the stained glass and gargoyles, so that any poor devil who gets dragged along because he owes someone a favour has something decent to look at.” His voice was very light, in that same bright, brittle way that made it so painfully clear that he was hanging on to what composure he had left by his fingernails.

“Yeah, well...blame Martin Luther,” Chloe said shakily. “Lucifer...tell me they’re not dead already.”

“I can’t do that, Detective.” He was staring very fixedly at the church doors now. “But I can promise you, your urchin will never see Hell.”

If she had believed in Hell or Heaven, that might have been reassuring. All it did was put a tight, hard knot in the pit of Chloe’s stomach. 

“We should go in,” she said, and started across the street.

It was then that the screaming started. Many voices, all crying out at once, and the church doors were thrown open as a great rush of people - men, women and children - flooded out, nearly trampling one another in their haste, stumbling, screaming, staring ahead wide-eyed and horrified, like- well, like perps who’d just been stuck in an interrogation room with a really, truly furious Lucifer.

Chloe could hear the shouting behind her, as Agent Morgan and his team rounded the corner and spread out to try and contain the flood, but she could only think of Trixie, Trixie, Trixie, alone in there with whatever had caused all this-

She reached the church doors just as the last of the congregation were swarming out, choking on the stench of rotten eggs and cooking meat, and stumbled in on a scene of horror.

There was Trixie, tied to a flat stake above a nest of kindling, like something out of a painting of witches about to be burnt at the stake. There was another stake beside her, this one empty, and between them- 

Maybe it had been a man, once. But now- Fire had consumed him, from head to foot, so that he seemed almost to be _made_ of flames, writhing and flailing and screaming in a high, inhuman voice as he burned. A charred corpse lay fallen at the foot of the second stake, two more men backing slowly away, one levelling a crossbow and the other already turning to run. As she watched, first one and then the other burst into flames, their clothes first - one of them screamed and tried to beat out the flames, only for his screams to grow still louder as his hand caught alight, and then hair and flesh catching all at once. They shrieked and howled like nothing human ever should, flailing and fighting and struggling to somehow beat out the fire, one of them falling to the ground and rolling, trying futilely to put out the flames.

And there, above them both, there was-

For a moment, Chloe’s eyes couldn’t take it in, but there she was. Hanging in the air above the stakes, in defiance of all the laws of gravity, was the Antichrist.

It was Sabrina. But it was not the Sabrina Chloe knew, who would sprawl out on her living-room floor playing board games or watching cartoons with Trixie, who fussed over her cat and teased her father and sang karaoke with Chloe on Tribe night.

Her eyes glowed from edge to edge with a ghastly pale light, her hair whipping around her as if in some unseen breeze, her hands stretched out, calling up the fire, which leapt and roared at her command, her white blouse soaked and stained the red of a battlefield sky, the colour of dying stars, and dying soldiers.

Beside her, she heard Lucifer exhale, low and desperately relieved, but not- not surprised, not shocked, not even afraid. 

He knew. He had always known.

Oh. Oh, God. 

It was true. It was all true. 

Sabrina was- Which meant that _Lucifer_ was-

“Mommy!”

Trixie's voice cut through the panic, and all at once, those terrible eyes fell on them. And even knowing, rationally, that they had come here as rescuers, that there was no reason for Sabrina, the girl she had liked and trusted to keep Trixie safe, to hurt her, something in Chloe flinched away, wanting to run and hide and cower somewhere in the deep darkness, where that terrible light could never find her. 

But then, all at once, the light faded, and Sabrina’s eyes were once again their own warm brown, a perfect mirror to her father’s. She dropped out of the air, half-floating and half-falling forwards, not like a stone or a falling apple, but smoothly, lightly, like a feather fluttering to the ground, and stumbled forward a step before righting herself, looking half dead on her feet, a faint, dazed smile spreading across her face as she half-collapsed against her father’s shoulder.

Lucifer’s arms came around her, just a little too tight to be pure support.

“Oh,” he said, with a poor attempt at casualness. “There you are. I should’ve known you’d manage something like this.” He glanced around at the church, the burning corpses, the overturned pews, and shook his head, half-hiding a grin against Sabrina’s hair. “When I told you about the Emperor Nero turning people into human candles, hellspawn, that was an interesting bit of historical trivia, not a _suggestion_.”

Sabrina made a noise that sounded like a muffled laugh, and Lucifer reached out his hand, palm-up, fingers half-curled in a lazy gesture of command. All at once, the fires went out, and Chloe-

Chloe had stood there, transfixed, for far too long. Now, all at once, the reality of the system came rushing back, and she half-ran and half-staggered across the room, nearly tripping over the burnt bodies - some dead, one still faintly stirring, to find Trixie. “Medic!” she said into her wire desperately. “We need a medic. Both girls are-” They weren’t safe, how could anyone be safe. “Alive and unharmed, but we have three serious burn victims. I think one of them is still alive-”

Already, she was tugging at Trixie’s ropes. Trixie’s face was smudged with smoke, her eyes wide and terrified.

“Is Sabrina going to be okay?” she asked, shooting a worried glance along the aisle. Chloe could not think of any way to answer that. How could a teenage girl capable of roasting four grown kidnappers alive where they stood possibly be _okay_ ? Then again, how could she not be, if _this_ was the fate of anyone who tried to hurt her?

She swallowed. “Y-yeah,” she said, not sure if she was lying or not. “Yeah, Lucifer is...Lucifer has her.”

Trixie clung to her as Chloe untied her, burying her face in Chloe’s shoulder, and Chloe couldn’t help clinging back just as tight. All the fear and exhaustion of the last day seemed to hit her all at once, but here Trixie was, warm and safe and alive.

“They were going to kill us,” Trixie mumbled against Chloe’s neck. “They- They hurt Sabrina. I was- I was so mad at her, for saying she was making me say they were wrong about Lucifer, but they killed her for it-”

“Hey...hey, monkey,” Chloe whispered back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Sabrina’s alive, there’s not a scratch on her. She’s okay.”

“She killed them, didn’t she?” Trixie asked, pulling away to look at Chloe. “She killed them all?”

Chloe couldn’t lie to her. “...yes.”

“ _Good_.”

For the first time in her life, Chloe found she understood what people meant when they said their blood ran cold. It wasn’t even that she disagreed with the sentiment, but...these men had died in pain she couldn’t even imagine, and now Trixie, her Trixie, was saying that was good? That was something Chloe didn’t even want to contemplate, but now it seemed she had to.

“We should get you out of here,” she said, rather than any of the hundreds of other things she could have said that came to mind. Trixie didn’t say anything to that, and Chloe scooped her up, half-carrying her, and putting a pointless hand over her eyes as they passed the men her daughter had watched die at the hands of her own babysitter.

When they reached the church doors, Sabrina was still leaning against Lucifer, his arm around her shoulders, ostensibly for support. As they drew closer, Chloe noticed for the first time a new pale scar across Sabrina’s throat, and the coppery stench of blood that told her that shirt was soaked all the way through with blood. But blood from where? She had her answer a second later as Trixie struggled free enough to reach over to Sabrina, and press one small hand against that faint, silvery line at Sabrina’s throat.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, in a very small voice.

Sabrina offered her a very tired smile. Under any other circumstances, without the bodies behind them, Chloe would have said it looked downright sweet. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

* * *

Morgan had worked a lot of disturbing cases in his time. Back with the BAU, they seemed to average a serial killer every week, and somehow they never stopped coming. Somehow, though, he knew that this case, no matter how objectively happy its conclusion, would be one of the ones that haunted him.

Sabrina Spellman and Trixie Espinoza had both been rescued alive and well, and without a mark on them. They were out there in the bullpen now with their families, all five of them crowded around Detective Decker’s desk. Dan Espinoza had barely let his daughter out of arm’s reach since they’d brought her back to the precinct, and even if the Morningstar-Spellman family were a little too self-consciously cool to do the same, it was hard to miss the way Lucifer Morningstar was looking at Sabrina, worry and pride and desperate relief all at once. Lab results were still pending on the blood that had soaked Sabrina’s clothes, but evidence suggested it was part of whatever ritual this cult had been planning for them.

The cult...that was the thing that was going to stay with him.

They’d brought their _kids_ along. A teenager and a little girl tied to those stakes, and all the evidence was that they’d wanted to burn at least one of them alive, by the gasoline-soaked kindling heaped up around the left-hand stake - the one Trixie Espinoza had been tied to, and so much for the theory that she wasn’t the one they meant to kill, though the floor around the right-hand stake was spattered with blood - and they’d wanted their kids to watch.

Morgan was never going to understand a mind like that, on any level deeper than the profiler’s clinical gauge of behaviour. He was never going to understand how any parent could sit there in the pews as if this were just a normal Sunday service and watch somebody else’s little girl burning alive, and call that _righteous_.

They’d rounded up what seemed like the entire congregation that had been in that church - they’d been too panicked to make a run for it, and it hadn’t seemed like they were expecting the police to show up. They _definitely_ hadn’t been expecting Mazikeen Smith, but then, neither had Morgan.

He was in two minds about that. On the one hand, Ms Smith’s intervention had been instrumental in capturing a few of the younger, fitter members of the congregation who’d tried to make a break for it. On the other...most of the injuries sustained during all of this had been from Smith’s distinctive little curved, palm-sized knives. Sliced tendons, mostly, anything that made it harder for the victims to walk, and mostly she’d targeted the legs. The last thing this mess needed was lawsuits for brutality, even if Smith wasn’t even officially affiliated with the LAPD on this case. Over a hundred people gathered to watch a human sacrifice and getting busted on accessory to murder...that was going to be a hard sell for any jury, and surrounding lawsuits weren’t going to help.

It was going to be hard enough just explaining the wealth of physical evidence they already had. Crime scene techs were still going through everything they could find at the scene to explain how four apparently healthy people had caught fire with no sign of a chemical accelerant or even a match. One of them was still alive in hospital, though not expected to make it through the night, covered head-to-toe with fourth, fifth and sixth degree burns. It was a wonder she’d even managed to cling to life this long, and they had no explanation for how or why any of it had happened. At this point, Morgan was almost contemplating calling Reid up to ask just what the odds were on spontaneous human combustion, even though he was pretty sure that wasn’t it. These people had meant to burn at least one of their victims alive, and found themselves burning to death before they could? No way that was a coincidence. Whatever they’d planned to use to light the fire that would kill Trixie Espinoza was probably what had provided the spark for their own immolation. So far, so straightforward. Except- Preliminary reports suggested no sign of a chemical accelerant on the bodies, of the kind they’d used on the kindling. And the fires had already been put out by the time Morgan had got to the church itself. Whatever this was, it had burnt too hot and too fast for any sort of conventional accelerant to be responsible - faster than the gasoline they’d planned on using for Trixie Espinoza would’ve been.

They needed some answers. Which meant that they needed to start interviewing - they had more people crammed into the cells now than they could sensibly hold, and every single one of them had some pretty pressing reasons to lie about what had happened in that church.

Which meant that they were going to have to interview the kids, find out everything they could about their day’s captivity. And find out whether either of them knew anything about why their captors had sent that message, straight out of the Book of Revelation - _come and see_.

* * *

Dan knew these sorts of interviews were standard practice after an abduction where the identities and numbers of the abductors weren’t entirely known. And he understood, in principle, why Trixie needed to be put through one now, when the memories were still fresh in her mind. That didn’t mean he had to like it, and that didn’t mean he had to accept being sent out of the room. It had been bad enough, being forced to stay behind at the precinct with Amenadiel, biting his nails and fretting.

The female agent who had interrogated Lucifer, who had introduced herself as Jamillah Najjar, gave Dan a carefully sympathetic smile.  
“There are...some things...that a girl Trixie’s age might not want to talk about with any men present. Even - or sometimes especially - her own father.” She had a little stab of accent, something vaguely Southern, one of the Carolinas, maybe.

Dan’s stomach twisted. “You...you think they might’ve…”

Agent Najjar nodded, a little apologetically. “We can’t rule anything out.”

Dan glanced at Trixie.

“Trix?” he asked. “Do you- Would you rather I wasn’t here.”

“No.” Trixie was staring down at her shoes, looking faintly sick. “I...you...you won’t tell anyone, though? I mean...you won’t tell Lucifer?”

“No,” Dan replied, as soft as he could. “No, of course I won’t. Why- Why don’t you want him to know?”

Trixie’s hands fisted in her jeans, and her voice was shaky.  
“I’m the reason they hurt Sabrina.”

It was news to Dan that Sabrina had been hurt at all - there hadn’t been a mark on her when the medics had checked her over, except a few old scars that had to be years old. Except- There were other forms of harm, that didn’t leave marks. And with Trixie their hostage...she said she was why Sabrina had been hurt. Had that been it? They’d used Trixie’s life as a way of forcing Sabrina into…

Dan had heard a lot of sick things in his time. He’d been a homicide detective for most of his career. Now, though...he’d never worked Special Victims, but he had to wonder now, if someone ought to call them in.

Najjar was speaking now. “Hurt her?” she asked, blinking great dark eyes. “Hurt her how?”

Trxie swallowed, and put a hand to her throat. “They...they cut her. Here. I wouldn’t say their stupid prayer and tell them that Lucifer was evil and she _told_ me I should!” She snuffled, knuckling at one eye, and Dan went to put an arm around her. “But I wouldn’t- I was so _angry_ at her-”

“Hey,” Dan said softly. “It sounds like she was just trying to look out for you-”

“I know.” Trixie sounded miserable. “I knew when she was saying it, I just- He really hates it when people lie about him.”

“What Lucifer hates isn’t as important as your life,” Dan said, a bit too shortly. “Not like he could hear it, right?”

“Yeah. Sabrina said that, too, after the church lady left.” Trixie huddled into herself. “She said he- he wouldn’t mind, if I was doing it ‘cause they made me. I asked her if she’d say it.”

Agent Najjar nodded. “Well, he’s her dad-.”

“ _So?_ He’s been my friend longer than _she’s_ been here!” Trixie was nearly vibrating with anger. “They wanted to make me lie about him, but- Sabrina...they...they never even _asked_ her. She said...she said she was _making_ me say Lucifer was my friend and I didn’t _want_ their stupid god-” Dan winced, imagining how his mom was going to take that little proclamation. “And they…” Trixie wrapped a hand around her neck and, for the first time since they’d got her out of the church, broke down in tears.

Dan tugged her a little closer, muttering soothing nonsense into her hair. She was shaking with tears now, all the stress and anxiety finally catching up with her, the same way it seemed to have caught up with Chloe, whom he’d caught just staring off into space more than once since they all got back, as everything that could have happened finally hit her.

“Nobody blames you,” Dan whispered, patting his daughter on the back as her tears soaked through his shoulder. “And nobody should. You were- You’re just a kid. Whatever they were going to do, to either of you...that’s all on them.”

“But if I hadn’t-”

“Your dad’s right,” Agent Najjar said, “They...evidence suggests they were going to try and kill Sabrina whatever happened. And she’s fine now. But...you said they cut her throat? Did you _see_ that happen, or did you only hear it? You were tied to the other stake, weren’t you?”

“I saw it.”

“Was there...okay, did you just see the knife, was there blood-”

“Why’re you asking that?” Dan snapped. “Come on, she just told you, you don’t need to make her relive it-”

“We need to ask,” Agent Najjar said, “Because Sabrina...listen, Trixie. Sabrina is fine. There aren’t any signs that anyone did anything like this. I’m not doubting what you saw, but we need all the details so that the people who did this can be punished properly.”

“They _were_.” Even through her tears, there was a sort of vicious satisfaction in Trixie’s voice that made the hairs go up on the back of Dan’s neck. His little girl shouldn’t sound like that.

Agent Najjar blinked. “...there were more than just those four people in that church, Trixie. We- Are you saying that those four were the ones who took you?”

“...two of ‘em.”

“And the other two? What did they do?”

“They…” Trixie bit her lip. “The church lady hurt Sabrina, but it was...it was the preacher that had her do it. He- He said they needed her blood…”

Dan’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want to imagine what a cult might want with Sabrina Spellman’s blood. But if they really did believe Lucifer’s hype, it might be anything. What did you do with the blood of the Antichrist, Dan wondered. And if he hadn’t found that particular flyer just when he had, in all the mess of Reese Getty’s conspiracy theories...they might not have known where to start looking, even with everything Linda had done. And Trixie might still be there, or be dead. They’d meant to burn her alive, someone had said.

Looking at it like that, it was hard to argue that those four hadn’t gotten exactly what they’d deserved.

“Okay. And...what happened to them, exactly?”

“Why do you care?” Trixie snapped. “They were going to kill us! They nearly _did-_!”

“I know,” Agent Najjar said quickly, “We just need to know what happens, for the trial. See, even if the people who actually took you are all dead...there were more than a hundred people in that church with you. They need to be held responsible for that too, if they wanted to watch whatever was going to happen to you and Sabrina.”

Trixie shrugged, avoiding their eyes. “I don’t know. They caught fire.”

“Okay.” Agent Najjar nodded. “Was there a match, did they...spill some of the gasoline on themselves…”

“Must’ve done,” Trixie said, just a little _too_ innocently. “How else would it’ve happened, magic?”

“Hm. We haven’t found anything like that at the scene…”

“I don’t know!” Trixie said, a bit too quickly. “Like you said, I was tied to the stake. They must’ve set themselves on fire trying to get me.”

Najjar nodded. “Okay. You don’t know. Can you tell me where they were holding you?”

It ought to have been a safer topic, but there were no safe topics in all of this. A crawlspace behind the altar. They’d knocked Trixie out and thrown her into a crawlspace with her babysitter, and spent the whole time trying to force her to renounce the Devil. It ought to have been easy for her, except that when Trixie heard ‘the Devil’, she could only picture Lucifer.

It wasn’t a fair thought, Dan tried to remind himself. Lucifer couldn’t have known this would happen, and nobody was expecting delusional religious fanatics to resort to child-abduction and murder.

But if he’d chosen some other stage-name, or some other gimmick...would any of this have been a problem at all?

Probably. Reese Getty and his grudge would still have been a problem, but that was...that was _Lucifer’s_ problem, it shouldn’t have involved _Trixie_ at all, except that Reese had bought into the persona and found people willing to listen to his delusions.

It shouldn’t have involved Sabrina either, though.

That thought brought Dan up cold. Because yeah, Trixie was innocent in this whole mess, but so was Sabrina. And if they’d meant to burn the girls at the stake...that owed as much to her persona as to Lucifer’s. This Order of the Innocents had been after the other side of her family before they ever came after her, and they’d targeted Trixie...maybe just because she was _there_. And in all of that, Sabrina had done her best to look out for Trixie, even when it put her in more danger. Dan...he owed her a thank-you for that. Whether or not Trixie really had seen what she thought she had, Sabrina Spellman had made herself a target to keep these people away from Trixie. How were you supposed to repay something like that, from a kid who shouldn’t have had to deal with all this any more than Trix should?

Trixie’s story didn’t get any easier to listen to as she described the abduction itself.

“We were watching this tv movie Sabrina found,” she said, sounding slightly guilty. “I wanted Scooby-Doo instead, but Sabrina said she’d never seen this version of the movie before. Which was weird, because it was a _really_ old movie…”

“And then the missionaries knocked on the door?”

“Yeah.” Trixie shifted. “I was...I was trying to sneak some chips out of the kitchen while she wasn’t looking. They- I heard her- She didn’t scream,” Trixie said, a bit too quickly. “But I heard her anyway. That’s...that’s when…”

“Can you describe your abductors for me?”

Trixie nodded, a little jerkily. “Yeah. They were...grown-ups. Old.”

“Old?” Najjar pressed. “Old like...like me, say?”

“Yeah.”

Najjar couldn’t be much over thirty, Dan thought, a little stung, but amused despite himself at the same time.

“They were white guys,” Trixie added, “Wearing suits? But not, like, _good_ suits.”

That was _definitely_ Lucifer’s influence speaking, Dan thought. The Trixie of a year or so ago wouldn’t have thought there was even a difference.

“They were..one of them was holding Sabrina. The other…” Trixie screwed up her eyes. “He...he had the knife. He stabbed her.”

Najjar blinked.

“...there’s no sign of a stab wound on her either,” she said gently.

Something _pinged_ in the back of Dan’s brain. Because there _had_ been blood at the apartment. And it had been very thoroughly tested and turned out to be Sabrina’s. Sabrina, who had been given a clean bill of health without so much as a scratch on her, and how did that add up?

“I saw it!” Trixie protested. “There was blood all over the place, and she-” she swallowed. “I got one of them’s fingers,” she hissed, low and confiding.

Agent Najjar widened her eyes. “You...you _cut off his fingers?_ What with? A kitchen knife? Did you- I mean, did you get the knife because you heard Sabrina was hurt?”

“...it was a knife,” Trixie admitted. “Maze showed me, after Malcolm…”

“Trixie’s been kidnapped before,” Dan offered, a hot twist of shame in the pit of his stomach. “By Malcolm Graham, last year. I suppose Maze wanted to make sure she could get away if anyone ever tried it again.”  
Agent Najjar nodded, still looking faintly disturbed. Dan couldn’t blame her. It took work, or quite a lot of brute strength, to cut off any part of another person’s body, especially with kitchen knives, which weren’t really meant for the purpose. He couldn’t imagine her abductors staying still long enough. But they _had_ found the fingers, adult-sized and with prints that weren’t in any of the databases, and they had to have come off somehow. But it was hard to imagine _Trixie_ could have done it.

The rest of the interview was more straightforward. Trixie remembered a few names - apparently, her abductors had been confident enough to wear _nametags_ \- but none of them matched up with the legal names of anyone associated with the Church of the Repentant Innocents that they’d been able to find.

Not that it was strictly Dan’s business now. The people who’d taken Trixie were dead, and Trixie was back. Any further interfering from her family would only weaken the case at trial, so they could back out now. Dan had never liked taking cases home with him anyway. This was...it was a job for him, it wasn’t supposed to follow him home. He didn’t have Chloe’s _need_ to know every last detail when the simple explanation could close a case. And maybe he’d taken that a bit too far sometimes, but most of the time, an open-and-shut case didn’t lead to any kind of grand conspiracy, just a sloppy crook who hadn’t put nearly as much thought into things as he thought he had. Whatever the feds were going to make of this case, it was in their hands now.

Chloe wasn’t there in the bullpen when he and Trixie came out of the interview, and nor were Lucifer or Sabrina.

“...where’d they go?” Trixie muttered, glancing around, a bit too quickly.

“Your mom’s probably somewhere around here,” Dan promised. “Come on, we’ll go look for her.”

Trixie was a bit too big to pick up now, but he did it anyway, his back protesting all the while, because if ever there was a time to keep a hold of her, this had to be it. Trixie latched on hard, and Dan tried to force down the thought of how scared she must’ve been. Trix was a tough kid, but she was still just a kid, and she’d just gone through something that would’ve broken a lot of adults. Maybe Linda would be willing to offer some kind of friends-and-family discount, because they’d had enough trouble trying to get Trixie through what had happened with Malcolm without some kind of support.

They found Chloe and Maze in the stairwell, arguing in low voices.

“-not like I ever lied about it,” Maze was saying defensively somewhere below, as Dan let Trixie down on the upper landing, rather than risk stumbling on the stairs while carrying her.

“That isn’t the same thing as being honest with me! And- All this time, all those things you said...you were being literal? About all of it?”

There was a long, quiet pause from downstairs.

“Then...Maze, I don’t...I trusted you around-”

“It’s still me,” Maze said in a low voice. 

“Yeah, except ‘you’ is-” Chloe broke off at the sight of them as Dan and Trixie rounded the corner onto the landing where the two of them were arguing. “Dan! Monkey, what- I thought you’d be in there a little longer.”  
Dan shrugged, as Trixie dashed forwards to hug Maze around the waist. “Yeah, well. Turned out there wasn’t much else they needed to know.”

Chloe nodded perfunctorily, watching Maze and Trixie with an odd look on her face as Maze cautiously hugged Trixie back.

“I got one of them’s fingers,” Trixie was saying, slightly muffled.

Maze grinned. “Bet they weren’t expecting that.”

“They still got us…”

Maze shrugged. “Happens. Point is, you got them.”

“The _point_ is, she’s safe,” Chloe said firmly. “Monkey...Monkey, come here, okay?”

Trixie blinked at her. Maze looked almost hurt. 

“Chlo?” Dan asked, eyeing her a little warily. Okay, he wasn’t going to look too closely at some of the injuries the cultists had been brought in with, but even Chloe couldn’t split hairs over that, after what they’d done.

For a moment, Chloe looked almost guilty, before shaking herself as Maze let go of Trixie and took one deliberate step back, raising her hands.

“This do?” she asked, her voice harsh. “Or should I go back to Nebraska?”

Dan blinked. “...what? Look, nobody’s saying…” he trailed off. He had no idea what it was they weren’t saying. “Look,” he started again, “Thanks. Really. I mean...off the record, but...thanks.”

Maze shrugged. “I...didn’t really do as much as I was expecting. The princess took care of all _that_ on her own.”

An odd look flickered across Chloe’s face at that, but Dan was too relieved to care.

“Right. But...you came, and you helped round up the cult, so…”

“I wasn’t-” Chloe started. “I mean...I know you wouldn’t hurt Trixie.”

Maze looked almost startled. “Well...good.”

Trixie screwed up her face and gave Dan a speaking look of confusion. Dan could not blame her. When had that even come up?

“I just…” Chloe started, then stopped, and turned to Dan. “Can...can Trix and I stay at yours tonight? She’s been through a lot, and I figure it might be best if we can all stick together.”

Dan thought back on the state his apartment was in, and shook his head. “I’ll come to yours,” he offered instead. “Trix’ll be happier in her own room, won’t you, Trixie?”

Trixie nodded decidedly, having latched onto Maze again while Chloe wasn’t looking. Maze shifted awkwardly.

“I can-” she started.

“Maybe that would be-” Chloe started to agree. “I mean, just for the night…”

“No!” Trixie cried, clinging on even tighter.

Dan was expecting Chloe to just say that Maze would be there too - it was her apartment, after all, and he could kind of see why it might be reassuring to have her around for a kid who might imagine the cult coming back - but the words didn’t come, leaving them standing around awkwardly until Chloe cleared her throat.

“Uh…” she started, rather weakly. “I...think Maze might…”

“I’ve got other stuff to do,” Maze said, a bit too quickly. “You know. Sinners to punish. That sort of thing.”

“The ones from the church?” Trixie asked, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at Maze.

Maze grinned. It looked a little forced, to Dan’s eyes, but whatever drama was going on with her and Chloe, this wasn’t the time to dig it all up.

“Yeah. Them. Can’t let you and the princess have all the fun, right? And since all you’ve left me are the rest of these losers...”  
Dan would’ve snapped at her for that, but then Trixie let out a very weak sort of laugh, and let Maze go. 

She glanced around, frowning. “Where...where’d Lucifer and Sabrina go?”

Dan didn’t think he was imagining how squirrelly Chloe looked at that question.

“They...already went back to Lux,” Chloe said, a little stiffly. “Their interview finished a lot quicker than yours.”

“Oh.” Trixie looked downcast, and Dan remembered what she’d said in the interview room. “Hey,” he said softly, “It’s not...it’s not because she blames you. She’s had a rough day too. You can talk to her tomorrow.”

“Maybe...maybe not quite that soon,” Chloe said awkwardly. Dan frowned at her. 

“Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” Chloe replied, just a little too quickly. “We should…” she shook her head. “Let’s go home.”


	8. Chapter 8

The Devil was real.

The Devil was real, and he was Lucifer.

The Devil was real, and he was Lucifer, and he’d been telling the truth this whole time.

She was friends with the Devil. She’d nearly  _ dated  _ the Devil. The Antichrist was her daughter’s babysitter.

_ God  _ was real, and he was Lucifer’s father, the man Chloe had wanted to see prosecuted to the fullest extent the law permitted just yesterday.

It was all- 

She couldn’t even say it was too much, because...honestly, what was all of this to her? It wasn’t as if her family had ever been religious. God was...she’d had a vague mental image of an old man with a white beard, or Morgan Freeman in a white suit, but that was just...surface-level. She’d never even thought about the idea that there might  _ actually  _ be a god  _ actually  _ up there  _ actually  _ paying attention to the lives of one little ape-descended species on one insignificant little blue-green planet. Satan was a cartoon figure in red tights and horns with a curly moustache and a vague association with the sort of old-fashioned cartoon villain that went around tying damsels to train tracks. None of it was meant to be  _ real _ .

Except now it was, and all Chloe’s comfortable illusions had burnt up the moment she’d stepped into that church and seen her best friend’s kid burning her abductors alive.

And the worst thing- 

The worst thing was, if you’d asked her before she’d been there, seen it,  _ smelt  _ it, if she would care at all if the people holding Trixie spontaneously combusted before they could hurt her, Chloe would have said no, that they’d deserve it if that did happen-

Then she’d watched three people die screaming as the fire consumed them, and...could  _ anyone  _ deserve to die like that?

She’d held things together as best she could through the interviews, side-stepping all Lucifer and Sabrina’s attempts to talk to her, and then she’d run into Maze and it had all just hit her.

Her roommate was...a demon, she guessed. Forged in the bowels of Hell to punish the wicked, that was what she’d said, that first Tribe night. God, she didn’t even bother to hide it, they must all think Chloe was so  _ stupid _ . And Chloe lived with her. Chloe had trusted her around Trixie. God, she’d trusted Sabrina around Trixie. Sabrina, who had burnt those men alive with Trixie tied to the stake behind her, helpless to do anything but watch-

No. No, that was...it had been self-defence, but...if she really did have magical powers, she could have done anything. She could have turned them all into frogs for all Chloe knew. And Sabrina, the sweet kid who liked musical theatre and cats and cheesy haunted house rides, had decided to roast them all alive. Chloe could still smell the sulphur, and beneath that the awful, appetising scent of cooking meat.

Trixie was in bed now, Dan conked out on the couch after a unanimous decision that sleeping in Maze’s room was a decision for only the brave...or the foolhardy. Or, quite possibly, both. Only Chloe was still sitting up, staring at the wall and trying very hard to restrain herself from just grabbing Trixie and running for both their lives.

Would that even work? Was there  _ anywhere  _ on Earth that Lucifer couldn’t find them, if he were really looking?  _ Would  _ he look?

Oh, God, she could barely afford this apartment even with Maze there to help pay the bills. It was share an apartment with a demon or go crawling back to her mother asking to live in the beach house again. She was going to have to find somebody else to watch Trixie - Olga might do it, but Olga had to be paid, where Sabrina would work for free-

Sabrina. The Antichrist.

And if the Antichrist was running around LA, that meant…

Chloe had never read the Bible, hadn’t been to church more than a handful of times in her life, and those mostly because Dan’s family had insisted on a church wedding and Trixie being baptised, had never had any real interest in religion...but she’d seen enough movies to know what the Antichrist meant.

The end of the world was coming. That- Was  _ that  _ why Lucifer was up here? It...the world could be ending soon, and he was here to usher it in by...running a nightclub and solving murders on the side? He hadn’t even known Sabrina  _ existed  _ until April this year...or so he’d said.

Lucifer doesn’t lie, Chloe reminded herself. He hadn’t known.

But Reese Getty had. Getty had known all along. Some of his research had dated back to just months after they’d started working together. He’d known from the very beginning, when he’d just come in to do that story on their partnership that never saw print. 

He’d been a creep and she’d never forgive him for throwing Trixie into the line of fire, but his research...that had been in-depth and extensive enough to satisfy anyone. She needed to see it. She needed to  _ know _ .

She let herself out of the apartment in silence, and drove across to the precinct. LA traffic was nightmarish even now, in the wee small hours of the morning, and the precinct was still quietly buzzing with late-night activity. The FBI had cleared out already, taking the physical evidence with them, including Reese Getty’s research...but Reese was still in the cells.

Nobody even thought to ask why she was there as Chloe made her way down to the holding cell where Reese Getty was sitting, slumped against the wall, a broken man. He’d already found out that he was facing prosecution as an accessory to kidnap and attempted murder. Even if he got off in court, his journalistic career was as good as over. 

He didn’t stir until Chloe was standing directly in front of him, one eye just barely cracking open to regard her blearily through the bars.

She cleared her throat. “Mr Getty?”

“Did you come to gloat, Detective Decker?” he said dully.

“No.” Chloe swallowed. “I- I need to know. The FBI already took all your research. How- how did you know?”

Reese snorted. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“No, I-” Chloe forced herself to stillness. “I didn’t believe you, before. You’re not...I wouldn’t have called you credible. Also you got my daughter kidnapped, so-”

“That- That wasn’t my fault!” Getty straightened up. “I never wanted her hurt! I just…”

“You wanted Sabrina.”

As she was saying it, the image of Sabrina rose up in her mind, on that trip out to Disneyland that she’d somehow managed to talk Lucifer into, her hands white-knuckled on the safety rail and her white hair whipping around her face, an ordinary, excited teenager on a day out. She felt a sudden, guilty pang, and swallowed, tasting bile.

“I- I won’t say I get it, but...at the church, I saw-”

Reese sat bolt upright. “...you saw his true face,” he breathed. “You- You really saw it?”

“I saw hers.” She couldn’t  _ stop  _ seeing it. Even now, that mental image of the excited girl on the rollercoaster was twisting, the wind whipping her hair turning into that unseen breeze, her eyes glowing white from edge to edge, fire leaping up at her command.

“But you...you know what he is, now? You...you can tell Linda?”

She hated to give him anything he wanted, but...it wasn’t as if Linda would believe her anyway. Even if she did, it wouldn’t send her running back to Reese, not after everything he’d done.

“I can tell Linda,” she said neutrally. “If you tell me what you found out.”

Reese’s eyes narrowed. He nodded, once, grudgingly.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Chloe said. No turning back now, despite the bitter taste in her mouth, but one thing years of police work had taught her was, barring Lucifer’s intervention, you never got the whole truth from anyone who knew themselves under suspicion. “I want to hear it all.”

*

“No! No, I’m fine! Look- It wasn’t...I’m not going to say it wasn’t as bad as last time, but…” Sabrina shrugged. “I mean...I’m alive. Lucifer has no idea how I was able to tap into my special apocalypse-y powers this time, but...no, I’m sure. I really am. No Apocalypse. We’ve already dealt with that once. And so long as Gabriel’s horn remains un-blown, which it’s going to have to given  _ I  _ don’t even know where Lucifer’s hidden it…Yes. Yes, I’m fine. So’s Trixie. You know, Trixie? Chloe’s daughter? She- she was taken too, but she’s...I mean, I’m not sure ‘fine’ is really the word for it, but…she isn’t hurt. Yeah. Look, I...it’s getting late, and you know big workings take it out of you. I promise, I’ll call tomorrow. No, I’m not going to get kidnapped again! It’s not like Greendale is any safer! Yes, I promise I’ll call at a reasonable hour. What- What time is it in Massachusetts anyway? Huh. Well, then I should go, and let you get back to it. I love you too. Goodnight, Aunties!”

She flopped back against her headboard and stared up at the canopy of her bed, the absurd four-poster she’d let Lucifer talk her into after she’d mentioned having always wanted one as a kid, running one hand along the new scar at her throat. She could still feel the knife against her throat. Not the pain, not anything that had come after, but the coldness of the knife, and that moment of shock when all of Hell had cried out to her, recognising her as its own-

“Hellspawn?”

Sabrina let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and looked around Lucifer was leaning against the archway where her bedroom door ought to be - her father was apparently allergic to doors - having pushed the curtain she’d added out of the way. He was holding a mug of-

“We have hot chocolate now?” Sabrina asked, pushing herself upright. 

“I’m given to understand this  _ is  _ the traditional beverage for post-traumatic familial bonding,” Lucifer said, holding it out.   
Sabrina grinned. She couldn’t quite help it. “Yeah,” she said, getting up and crossing the room to take it from him, “Yeah, it is. So…” she frowned at something behind him, and craned her neck to see around Lucifer. “...is that Amenadiel?”

“Yes.” Lucifer was eyeing her now, slightly warily. “Apparently Mum being willing to see you and the urchin murdered was the final straw.”

“Oh.” For lack of anything else to say, Sabrina took a sip of chocolate. It was, as she might have expected,  _ very  _ good, strong and dark enough to still have that edge of bitterness. “Is he...going to be sticking around?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “He’s not moving in with us, if that’s what you’re asking, but...apparently he’s no longer quite so thoroughly on Team Goddess, so...yes, he’ll be around more. You don’t object to that?”

Sabrina had only met her uncle once since coming to LA. She’d been scared stiff, at first, just knowing he was in the building, but...he’d made excuses, but he hadn’t joined in with anything her grandmother wanted to do to her. She’d forgiven worse.

“No.” 

Lucifer seemed oddly relieved at that - apparently he’d missed his brother more than he’d ever admitted to her.

“So,” she said, pinning on a smirk, “Are you just going to abandon him out there, or…” she was making a beeline for the sofas before she’d even finished the sentence, dropping herself down at the end of the same sofa as Amenadiel, who was watching her now with the air of a man being asked to share living quarters with a poisonous snake. Not the company she’d have chosen, but anything was better than being alone with the contents of her own head right now.

“Right,” Lucifer said, throwing himself into the armchair. “Well. Brother, I don’t think you two were ever properly introduced, were you? Amenadiel, Sabrina. Sabrina, your uncle Amenadiel. I’m afraid he’s not the  _ cool  _ uncle in this family, that’d have to be Raphael, if he’s still as I remember him.”

“He is,” Amenadiel supplied, looking aggrieved. “Or he was last time I saw him. It’s...been a while.”

Lucifer snickered. “What happened, did he booby-trap your cell for you again? Have you ever  _ not  _ fallen for that-?”

“ _ Angels _ play  _ pranks _ ?” Sabrina asked, leaning forward. 

Lucifer grinned. “ _ Dad _ , yes! Well, some of them do, anyway. I remember this one time-”

“Is this really the conversation we need to be having?” Amenadiel demanded. “Sabrina. Are you...doing okay? After...everything.”

“Fine,” Sabrina said, a bit too quickly, trying to ignore Linda’s voice in the back of her head reminding her that denying her feelings only served to make her feel worse. “I mean...I’ve  _ actually  _ died and come back before, and it didn’t even get that far, this time. And, you know...the first time you try it, people want to set up new religions around you. Second time, everyone just assumes you’re basically Wolverine and moves on.”

She hoped she’d got the right mutant. It would be embarrassing to get that one wrong, just because she’d only half paid attention to most of Harvey’s comic book rants.

“Yes, well, let’s not test that one out again anytime soon,” Lucifer said, his eyes lingering on the scar at Sabrina’s throat. “How’d your aunts take the news?”

“They’re...not thrilled about it,” Sabrina said, with what she thought was admirable restraint and understatement, all things considered. Aunt Zelda had all but demanded she come straight home on the spot. “But I’m staying. At least until the end of the summer.”

“Are you...sure that’s wise?” Amenadiel asked, looking over at Lucifer. “You know Mom won't stop until she’s dead.”   
“ _ She _ would rather you didn’t discuss  _ her  _ as if  _ she  _ wasn’t here!” Sabrina protested. “And it’s not as though she wouldn’t be able to find me in Greendale.”

Lucifer coughed. “He...much as I hate to admit this, he...might have a point, hellion. Mum is...somewhat bound to LA for the moment.”

A pit opened up in Sabrina’s stomach. “You’re sending me away?”

No more sly comments on LA history, no more bonding at the piano, no more game nights at the Deckers’?

Though that last one might be off-limits from now on anyway.

“No!” Lucifer protested. “Not...not  _ sending  _ you, but...for safety, it might be better if you were a long,  _ long  _ way away from Mum until we’ve figured out what to do with her.”

“She wasn’t even behind this, was she?” Sabrina asked, frowning.

“No, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be behind the next attempt.”

“Which she could as easily arrange to be in Greendale as here! I mean-!” Sabrina gestured at herself. “Not exactly about to become any less Antichrist-y just because I’m not staying with you anymore! Besides, the Order of the Innocents know I’m from Greendale anyway, and I’m pretty sure the Massachusetts branch isn’t about to have half of its members locked up for kidnap and attempted murder. I’m probably safer here.”

And even if she wasn’t...she  _ wanted  _ to go home, yes. She couldn’t imagine  _ not  _ going back to the mortuary, full of new stories to tell everyone when she got back and laden with souvenirs of her time away to give to Ambrose and the aunties and her friends. But not  _ yet _ .

“You’re leaving them in prison?” Amenadiel asked, frowning. “I’d have thought...I’m sorry, Luci, but I was expecting something a bit more fire-and-brimstone in response.”

“Maze is taking care of it,” Lucifer said, his eyes gleaming malevolently. “Since it’s only the spectators. Sabrina managed to take care of the actual perpetrators quite thoroughly. Speaking of which, hellspawn, have your aunts resolved to find some way of binding or banishing me back to Hell over this?”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “No, Dad, not yet. You might find yourself invited over for Yule, though.”

Lucifer shuddered theatrically, but he was smiling. It was- It was good, or as close to it as she was going to get. Like this, she could shut the memory of the church, and what had happened there, away. Not just what the cult had done, but what she’d become to destroy them. It had happened to someone else, it wasn’t  _ her _ . Linda could make whatever noises she chose about unhealthy coping mechanisms, but at this point  _ coping  _ at all was an achievement.

Amenadiel was watching them both now with an odd little furrow between his brows, as if he- what, hadn’t expected them to be able to laugh at each other? But then, he’d barely talked to either of them since Lucifer had brought her along to LA. She hardly knew anything about him, except that he was an angel, and rather closer to his mother than Lucifer had been recently.

“So…” she asked, not sure what it was she was going to finish that sentence with. “Is the ‘wipe out all nephilim’ plan still a thing, or…?”

Amenadiel shifted uncomfortably. “That was never my plan. But I should have stood up to Mom about it sooner. I didn’t know what she planned to do, upon her return to Heaven.”

Lucifer snorted. “Well, better late than never, I suppose. That still leaves us with the problem of Mum and her plans.”

“Why?” Amenadiel asked. “I mean...without the flaming sword, she’s still here on Earth, with almost none of her powers. And...Sabrina has shown herself more than capable of handling supernatural threats.”

Sabrina tried to convince herself that the tight, too-hot feeling in her chest was pride, and not anxiety, and failed.

“Yeah,” she said, a little hollowly. “But...I mean...these were just witch-hunters. Or...nephilim, or whatever they are. Not sure I’m up to the literal  _ Goddess of Creation _ yet.”

“Well, luckily for you, you don’t have to be,” Lucifer said sharply. “I’ll send her straight back to Hell before she tries again.”

Even Amenadiel looked slightly taken aback at that. “...Luci, you can’t…”

“Can’t I? Weren’t you the one telling me I should’ve done it the moment she stuck her scheming head out of the Pit?”

“Yeah, but…” Amenadiel’s face twisted. “She’s still our Mother,” he said, and his voice was smaller than Sabrina had ever heard it before. “I know- I know what she was planning-”

“What she’s probably still planning, now she’s figured out Plan A won’t work,” Lucifer said archly.

“I thought we established this wasn’t her plan?” Sabrina asked, feeling as if she’d...well, as if she’d stumbled into a situation that predated her by centuries and she’d need a full set of history texts to properly understand.

Lucifer and Amenadiel exchanged a look.

“...it wasn’t,” Amenadiel said at last. “That...doesn’t mean she didn’t have a plan.”

Sabrina swallowed.

It wasn’t new information. She’d known her grandmother hated her since the day she arrived in LA. It was just...it was one thing to know your grandmother hated you, another to know that she’d murdered most of your cousins, and another thing again to know, for sure, that she had a plan to murder  _ you _ .

“...what sort of plan?” she asked, because if she knew, she could deal with it. Okay, maybe not all that successfully, but...well. She could think of something.

Lucifer shifted. “...it was never going to work,” he said defensively, “So it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Yeah, it does!”

“No, it doesn’t, because Mum clearly doesn’t understand  _ anything  _ about-” he cut himself off. “I’m not- Not arguing about this. She’ll need to come up with a new plan, either way. Amenadiel, do you have any ideas?”

Amenadiel looked startled to be dragged back into the conversation, but rallied quickly.

“Mom and I were looking into the Sword itself,” he admitted. “There’s a certain Ancient Sumerian text which might have some answers.”

Lucifer blinked. “...what was the point of that meant to be, when you didn’t have the Sword?”

“The  _ point _ , Luci, was to understand as much as we could about the Sword before Mom tried to get it back from wherever you’d hidden it?” Amenadiel paused. “Where  _ did  _ you hide it, anyway?”

“No offence, Brother, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share that little detail yet, considering right up until recent events you were bang alongside the ‘cut open the gates of Heaven and never mind anyone left behind on Earth’ plan!”

“It’s not as if you weren’t! Right up until-” Amenadiel seemed to remember Sabrina was there, and broke off.

“You were going to leave?” Sabrina asked, looking around at her father.   
“No, of course not!” It even sounded genuine. “I mean...I was involved with the plan, but I was never going to tag along. What’s the Silver City to me? I was just going to shove Mum through the gates and slam them shut behind her!”

Sabrina could hear Amenadiel’s shocked intake of breath. Apparently he hadn’t been in on this particular variation on the plan.

“...and now?” she asked.

Lucifer made an irritated noise. “Now...much as I might enjoy watching her and Father tear each other to pieces, there’s too great a risk she might  _ win _ , and I’d rather not see either LA or Greendale get drowned anytime soon.”

“I mean, I’m a witch,” Sabrina reminded him, “We float.”

“True. But the rest of your town won’t. And, last I heard, you were still attached to your postage-stamp.”

Sabrina snorted, and got up to perch on the arm of Lucifer’s chair just so she could shove him for that.

“Yes, I’m  _ attached _ ! So- It’s fine so long as she doesn’t get her hands on this sword, right?”

“‘Fine’...might be overstating things,” Lucifer said, grimacing. “But floods and plagues are off the agenda.”

“Okay, so we just stop her getting the sword, right?” Sabrina grinned. “I mean...can’t be that hard, can it? Is it- Did you hide Gabriel’s horn in the same place?”   
“You have Gabriel’s-” Amenadiel started.

Lucifer waved a hand. “Found it during that detour in Greendale and I am  _ not  _ giving it back. You know Gabriel. Do you  _ remember  _ his attempts at playing that thing?”

Amenadiel made a face like he’d come up against an unexpected mouthful of eyeballs in his ice-cream, but was trying to be polite to spare Aunt Hilda’s feelings.

Lucifer nodded. “ _ Exactly _ . So, yes, hellspawn, I’ve hidden it in the same place as Gabriel’s horn, and with luck my mother will never find it.”

‘With luck’ was never a reassuring thing to hear. Mostly because luck was not something Sabrina or anyone she knew had ever seemed to have.

“Okay, so...next step is to find this Sumerian text, right?” she asked. “I mean...before she does. Goddess. Grandma? Whatever I’m supposed to call her.”

“It...might be more complicated than that,” Amenadiel said, low and solemn.

“Not a bad start, though…” Lucifer mused. “Are you sure you’re up for this, hellspawn? Because nobody would mind if you weren’t. You came here to get  _ away  _ from this sort of drama, didn’t you?”

“I’m fine,” Sabrina lied. “I mean...even if I wasn’t...this needs to get done, right?”

“That doesn’t mean  _ you  _ need to be the one to do it.” He was looking at her very intently now, as if- As if he knew what she’d seen, in that desperate moment as the power had found her.

Sabrina forced herself to meet his eyes. “I know. But...for my peace of mind? Please?”

It took a moment, but this time, Lucifer nodded.

*

On the other side of the city, the Goddess stood alone on the balcony of Her new apartment. And She was, for the first time since She’d left Hell, entirely alone.

Her sons had forsaken Her. And for  _ what _ ?

One petty little half-human abomination, that would be dead in a few brief centuries anyway?

It wasn’t even as if Lucifer had defied Her, the way the Grigori had done. He had been trapped and tricked into producing this half-formed thing, and still would not let Her destroy it as it deserved. Never mind that such a creature could hardly be said to  _ live  _ at all, limping through its sad existence with just enough awareness to know just how far short it fell of the power of Heaven. Better for all concerned to put it down quickly, and say no more of this little indiscretion, but Lucifer wouldn’t listen.

And time was running out. 

Amenadiel already knew that. Her power was too much for this mortal body, and She couldn’t survive on this plane without it. Not after this long. It had been all She could do to find her way to this one, when She had first escaped Hell.

She  _ needed  _ to go home, and so long as Lucifer held the Flaming Sword, he was Her only way back to the Silver City, and Her children.

It had been so long since She had seen them. Was Raphael still sharp-tongued, rough and gentle all at once, forever being dragged into scrapes by his siblings? Had Castiel ever learnt to understand social cues, at least enough to realise that constant singing only got on everyone’s nerves? Lucifer hadn’t known to tell Her, and Amenadiel never wanted to talk about any of his siblings, but the thought of them made Her sick at heart, to know how much She had missed. And She would never speak to them again if She didn’t find some way around this body’s limitations. She would never speak to Lucifer again if he did not come with her now, and yet with every attempt She made to break the ties that bound him here, the harder he clung on.

She’d attempted to destroy Lux, but he’d pulled through. She’d tried to break his ties to his detective, and for a while She’d even thought She was succeeding, but then they’d pulled together all the tighter. She had not yet had the chance to put Her plan to break his childish attachment to the abomination he’d created into effect, but Lucifer seemed to have abandoned all good sense.

He had turned his back on Her, on their family. Perhaps it was time She turned Her back on him in turn. Except, of course, that She could not bear to. He was Her Lightbringer, her secondborn, more beloved than Her firstborn for being entirely Her own. Amenadiel had been his Father’s son from the moment They had begun the work of creation, designed to his Father’s specifications, with hardly any creative input of Hers, and though she loved him anyway, Amenadiel was not Her mirror in the way Lucifer had once been. Even Lucifer was not Her mirror now. 

This world that their Father so loved had corrupted both Her sons, and for that, She would drown this whole planet in blood before the end, bring down plagues that made what She had made of Egypt look like blessings by comparison...but first, She needed to return to Heaven, and the chirp of Her phone where it sat on the table - it was absurd, how many of these foolish devices humans needed to communicate with one another - suggested that, soon enough, She would have what She needed to go home.

Night had fallen over the city now. Los Angeles. City of Angels, the humans called it, as if this cesspool could hope to equal the glories of the Silver City. The only city, soon enough. She had liked this world in its beginning, endless green forests, little rivers and seas and creatures that didn’t stand up on their hind legs and try to claim equality with their creators. She might keep Daniel, in the Silver City, after the end, but what were the rest of them, but a project that had, within one generation, got far, far out of hand?

No. The time had come to wipe the slate clean, on Earth as it would be in Heaven.

In the dark, the Goddess smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the end. A bit anticlimactic, I know, but I promise, all plot threads raised here will be addressed later in the series. And - yeah, Chloe is not taking this brilliantly here, but I promise, things will improve. Without Father Kinley showing up, at least for a while.


End file.
